The Bordeaux Betrayal

“I’m pretty sure it was a woman.” She tapped her forehead. “Feminine inhibition, you know. At first I thought maybe they were meeting for lunch because she was all dressed up real fancy in a nice-looking suit. Then she said something about ‘being over there’ as soon as she left the store so I guess she was driving to the other woman’s house.”

“What color was the suit?” I asked.

“Reddish-brown. Not one of my colors. Makes my skin look sallow. Why?” She turned pale. “Good Lord, Lucille. That’s what she had on when you found her, isn’t it? That poor woman. Goin’ from my store to her death.”

“It’s also possible she had her meeting and went somewhere else.”

Thelma picked up her glasses and polished the lenses on her sleeve without looking at me. “How’s Quinn taking this? I heard he wasn’t too happy she came to town.”

I didn’t know whether to answer her directly or indirectly. Quinn didn’t kill Nicole and I needed to eliminate that idea from Thelma’s repertoire of possibilities before it went any further.

“He once loved her enough to marry her. So he’s taking her death like you’d think he would. He’s devastated.”

Thelma adjusted her glasses and surveyed me through trifocals. “I don’t suppose you heard about Hamp Weaver,” she said. “He’s moving into the postfuneral planning business.”

Hampton Weaver was a local carpenter who ran a fireworks company—Boom Town Fireworks—on the side. “Post-funeral?”

“It’s kind of a new thing. But I’m sure it’ll catch on real big. For those folks who want to give their loved ones an extraterrestrial experience. A wonderful send-off to their next home.”

I must have looked startled because she said, “Oh, don’t you worry. It’s very tasteful. And Hamp knows his fireworks. He sees it as a different kind of way to spread the ashes of your loved one. Everyone’s going to want to do it. You can even choose the favorite colors of the deceased. You know, personalize the display for that final send-off. There’s lots of possibilities for creativity.”

“Fireworks?”

She stood up. “Most everyone has that reaction, Lucille. It surprises the heck out of you but once you think on it, it’s pretty clever. Let me get you his new business card. You can slip it to Quinn when you think the time is right.”

Which would be never. “I ought to be getting home, Thelma. Thanks for the coffee and I’ll pay you for the muffin. I also need some coffee beans and a loaf of that homemade sourdough bread for my grandfather.”

She caressed the paper bag that held the bread as she put it in a plastic carrier. “You tell Luc I sent this with my love, you hear me? And tell him don’t be a stranger, either. I know he likes red.” She smoothed her dress. “I’m wearing this just in case he drops by today.”

“He does,” I said. “And I’ll tell him.”

“Au revoir,” she said. “And you can also tell him that I’ve got a nice cross-ant waiting here special for him. Dans ma poitrine.”

I knew she meant vitrine, which was the large glass case where she kept all the baked goods, including her croissants. No point mentioning she’d told me instead that she was keeping it in her breast.

So Nicole Martin stopped by the General Store on her way to a meeting with a woman. Dressed in the suit she was killed in.

I drove home, making a mental list of possible candidates. It was pretty short.

Chapter 25

I called the winery on my way back to the house. Frankie answered and said a couple of reporters had phoned about Nicole.

“What’d you tell them?” I asked.

“No comment.”

“Good for you. I just turned my phone on. Looks like I’ve got a bunch of messages.”

“Listen only if it’s someone you know,” she said. “I asked Gina to come in today. Hope you don’t mind, but I thought the boss could use a day off. We can cover anything that comes up.”

I smiled. “The boss wouldn’t mind a day off. Have you seen Quinn?”

“Jesus Lord.”

“Guess that’s ‘yes.’”

“He looked like hell.”

“He needs some sleep. I hope you told him to take a day off, too.”

“I tried. He went to the barrel room to get away from everything. A reporter showed up on his doorstep and wanted to talk to him,” Frankie said.

“What happened?”

“Quinn threw him off the property, then called his hunting buddy to come over and patrol the place. He’s supposed to be shooting crows and what have you, but I think he’s also supposed to put the fear of God into trespassers.”

“The spot near my mother’s cross is still a crime scene, Frankie. The sheriff’s department is coming by to search the place, too.”

“They’ve been here already,” she said. “I think they’re out by where you found Nicole now. Look, why don’t you let me handle all this? Go home and turn your phone off. Take your grandfather out for a drive or just get lost somewhere. There must be something you’d like to do.”

“As a matter of fact,” I said, “there is.”

When I got home around nine-thirty Pépé was still sleeping. I sat across from the bust of Jefferson in the foyer and listened to the messages on my phone. The only call I returned was Kit’s.

She answered on the first ring. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been looking for you everywhere. No one answers at your house and your cell goes straight to voice mail.”

“My grandfather wouldn’t wake up if an army marched through his bedroom. I’ve been out.”

“Are you okay, Luce? I heard you two found Nicole.”

“We were visiting my mother’s cross. Whoever killed her left her body near there.”

“Bobby said she was beaten and strangled.”

“I know.”

“How’s Quinn taking it?”

“Like you’d think. He’s in the barrel room trying to work.”

“Look, I’m on my way to a briefing at the sheriff’s department so I’ve got to dash. Why don’t I call you this afternoon?”

“Sure. You’re writing the story?”

“Everybody in the bureau’s working on it.”

“You make any decision on the Moscow job yet?”

She hesitated and my heart sank. She was going to take it. “Yeah,” she said, “as a matter of fact I did. I turned it down.”

I smiled into the phone. “I’m really glad. What changed your mind?”

“Maybe it’s not so bad writing about school board meetings after all,” she said. “And Bobby finally said, ‘Baby, don’t go.’”

“Really? Things must be getting serious.”

“Yeah, sure. Mr. Speedy when it comes to romance. Like watching a glacier melt.” She chuckled at her own joke. “What are you doing today?”

“Errands.”

“Keep your mind off everything, huh? Take care of yourself. Talk to you later, kiddo.”