Authors: Michele Scott
Murder Uncorked (9 page)
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 within 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.
Nikki scanned the vineyard, seeing a handful of workers spread throughout the vines. Someone cranked up a tractor in the distance. She thought her best bet was to walk toward the patio where the music was coming from.
Oliver followed at her heels up a set of brick steps and onto the patio. A dark-haired man in a plaid shirt and jeans was seated at a picnic table with his back turned toward Nikki. He was speaking into a cell phone, and the way his free arm was waving wildly, she bet that he wasn’t having a pleasant conversation. “I know,” he replied in a Spanish accent. “I was in Spain. I was unable to get the contracts dealt with. I have a problem here. I need to have these grapes harvested. Fine. Call me back.” He shut the phone and mumbled something in his native tongue that she was sure wasn’t a nicety.
“Excuse me,” Nikki said.
His head snapped up, and he turned around to face her. His plaid shirt was open and exposed a sleeveless undershirt that didn’t hide the fact that the man was built.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” She stretched out her hand. “Hi. I’m Nikki Sands. I’m looking for Andrés Fernandez.”
He sat up straight. Nikki couldn’t help but notice his remarkable looks. Hazel eyes framed by a thick fringe of eyelashes, an angular face, his high cheekbones reddened by the sun, and a small beauty mark high on his right cheekbone. One thing Napa Valley wasn’t lacking, besides a plethora of grapes and fancy estates, was handsome men.
“That would be me. What can I do for you?” He faced back around at a bizarre glass instrument on top of the picnic table, sounding as if he had no interest in her.
Nikki knew she was going to have to try and give one heck of a performance, because she sensed that Andrés wasn’t the trusting type from the get-go. “I’m here with a new wine magazine coming out called,” she paused and cleared her throat, “excuse me, something caught in my throat, anyway the magazine is called the
Vine Times
, and I’m writing a story about the winemakers here in Napa Valley.”
Vine Times
, and I’m writing a story about the winemakers here in Napa Valley.”
He frowned. “In jogging shorts and with a dog? Don’t you people usually call when doing a story?”
“Yes, we do. But you see, I was out on a jog, and I passed by your winery here, and thought since you were on my list to talk to, I’d see if I could at least stop in and say hi, maybe set up an appointment.” She studied him, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
“Hi,” he replied sarcastically. He crossed his arms in front of him. “Nice Ridgeback.” He motioned to Oliver.
“Yes, he is a really good dog.”
“Your dog?”
Nikki nodded. “Sort of, kind of. Yeah. A friend gave him to me.”
“A friend? Nice friend. Expensive dog.” He smiled. “Not too many Ridgebacks around. There are a few Mastiffs, a couple of Dobies up the way, but I only know one Ridgeback here in Napa Valley.” Andrés pulled a pair of sunglasses from his shirt pocket and put them on. “Why don’t you tell me the truth, Miss Sands?”
“What do you mean?”
Andrés pointed to Oliver. “I only live a mile away from Malveaux. I’ve even returned that dog back to their place a time or two. You’re not a reporter. This
is
a small valley.”
is
a small valley.”
“Can I have a seat?” She motioned to the picnic table.
He shrugged. She sat down by him. “You didn’t buy any of that, huh?”
“Not even if you didn’t have the dog, but he makes it obvious.”
“And to think I’m an actress, or I used to be.”
“Not a very good one.” He turned back to what looked to be a science experiment on top of the wooden table. It was a piece of blown glass with a bulbous bottom and narrow stem. Liquid flowed down to the bottom and pushed the scaled numbers on the narrow part of the tube upward. Nikki suddenly realized what it was—a hydrometer used to measure the amount of sugar in must or wine. The instrument allows the winemaker to predict and adjust his recipe depending on the readings taken. She remembered reading about hydrometers in one of her wine books at home, but she’d never seen one.
“Ouch. Thanks. That’s why I said ‘used to be.’”
“Alright, Charlize Theron. By the way, how do I even know that your real name is Nikki Sands?” He waved a hand at her. “It doesn’t matter. What do you want, and why are you making up stories to get at what you want?”
She crossed her legs and held her head up high, flicking hair that had fallen from her ponytail out of her face. She looked pointedly at him, deciding total confidence would be the only possible way of getting to this man. “I’m considering taking a job with Malveaux.”
“How nice for you.”
“I’ll be honest with you. I’m the one who found Gabriel Asanti murdered.”
“Great. Did Malveaux send you here as some private investigator? Because I already spoke with the police. I didn’t care for Gabriel, but I didn’t kill him.”
“I’m not a P.I., but I am curious, and I thought I’d get an outsider’s perspective of Malveaux Estate and the folks there, plus Gabriel’s murder has me shaken up.”
“So you come talk to me?”
“Why not? I’ve heard all the rose-colored-glasses stuff from Derek Malveaux, now I want to hear if there’s any dirt. I don’t want to make a bad decision. I’m considering uprooting from L.A. and leaving family behind. This is a big deal for me. I wouldn’t have thought twice about taking the job before this murder, but now . . .” Half-truths were not half lies, but half-truths. From the look on his face, her acting had improved, because he stopped looking at her with darkened suspicion.
“Working for Malveaux is fine, I suppose, if you view making wine as only a business deal.”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe I shouldn’t be so harsh on Derek Malveaux, because I believe he’s tried through the years to maintain what his father started. I think Gabriel Asanti brainwashed him and the rest of the world into thinking his wines were a cut above the rest.”
“Are you saying they’re not? The man has won tons of awards. I’ve tasted his wines. They’re delicious.”
“The taste is good, I suppose. It’s the attitude that Gabriel had that angered me. Wine is not supposed to be about how much and how many. Dollars and cents, awards and kudos. That’s all Gabriel cared about. He didn’t appreciate the art form. He didn’t understand the beauty of the culture.”
Andrés was proving to be not only a recluse, but maybe a bit eccentric, too. “I’m not totally sure I understand.”
“How could you? Are you a farmer? Do you grow grapes? I would guess, no. You’re someone who sees dirt, soil, as messy, filthy.”
“You don’t know what I think.”
Wasn’t dirt dirty?
Did someone know something Nikki didn’t, because she’d been called dirt as a kid, and it hadn’t been used in a nice way.
Wasn’t dirt dirty?
Did someone know something Nikki didn’t, because she’d been called dirt as a kid, and it hadn’t been used in a nice way.
“Making wine starts from the soil. It’s like a painting. The soil is the canvas. The roots of the grape vine are like a paintbrush. The grape grower, winemaker, all of us on the land here are the painters. Our product should be about divine taste and art and culture. The greatest miracle-maker of all turned
water
into wine. Need I say more? Someone like Gabriel comes along with his big-business attitude, and he dilutes the art.”
water
into wine. Need I say more? Someone like Gabriel comes along with his big-business attitude, and he dilutes the art.”
There was some definite deep-seated resentment going on within Andrés toward Gabriel. “I see. Gabriel didn’t take what he did seriously?”
“No.” He shook his head and grimaced. “The irony is that he won awards, he is known, he’s a superstar, when he doesn’t deserve to be.”
“Do you think you deserve to be?”
He didn’t respond right away. Nikki shifted uneasily. “I am a man, Miss Sands. Therefore, I do have an ego. I can’t say in all honesty that I don’t think I shouldn’t be a recipient of certain awards or cheers from the sommeliers and oenophiles around the world. That would be a lie. However, my ego isn’t about money or even myself, but about maintaining what I do as the art form it’s always been.”
“Big wine business has been around for years. Why the beef with Gabriel? Why Malveaux?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because they’re the biggest, or maybe it’s because Gabriel Asanti liked to throw all of his accomplishments in my face.” He took his glasses off and adjusted them.
“That would be upsetting.” She wasn’t totally buying his reasons. There was something else going on behind those eyes as to why Andrés didn’t like Gabriel.
“Yes.” He turned toward his uncompleted task. “I think we’re done here.”
“Right. Thanks.”
“By the way, Detective Martini. . . .” He winked at her. “I think you’ll be fine working with Malveaux. Derek himself is a nice guy, but the rest of them are a bunch of lunatics.”
“You called me Detective Martini.”
“Yeah, I’m a bit of an actor, oops, I mean liar myself. The dog didn’t give you away. There’s a handful of Ridgebacks in the area. They make good watchdogs. I saw your show a few times. You weren’t really that bad. Also, gossip travels fast around here. Apparently, there’s a certain policewoman who’s a bit starstruck with you.” He smiled at her. “I’ve got business in town. See you around. If you decide to take the job, come down and we’ll celebrate with a
really
good bottle of wine.”
really
good bottle of wine.”
Nikki’s body grew warm as embarrassment filled every nerve ending, and she was at a loss for words. Before she could open her mouth again, Andrés stood up and walked inside the winery. Shaking off the feeling, Nikki started running, Oliver staying in line with her. When she hit Highway 29, she realized she’d forgotten to ask Andrés one more question. She wanted to know where he’d been the other day about the time Nikki spotted the disturbance in the bushes over by the pond. She turned around to question him about it.
Cresting the top of the hill and heading back toward the winery, she heard a car engine start on the backside of the vineyard. She watched, out of breath, mouth open as Andrés sped down the dirt road toward the highway. He apparently hadn’t seen her coming back up the hill.
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