I glanced uneasily around the gymnasium, worried that Desiree, Richard, or others would notice. Luckily her loud voice couldn’t carry over the noisy hum of conversation from the ever-growing crowd.
The gym was quickly filling to capacity. There were now close to a hundred people. Some were locals, others I recognized as wine buyers and other wine industry folks. The rest were volunteers and people from neighboring towns looking for something to do on a Saturday. The Westwick Corners Wine Festival was the only day of the year when people could day drink and not feel guilty.
Tyler sighed. “Calm down, Pearl. I’ll see what I can do. Have you seen Richard around?”
Aunt Pearl nodded. “He’s gone. He tore out of the parking lot like his pants were on fire.” She hiccupped. “Just about sideswiped Pearl’s Palace.”
Tyler frowned. “Richard left? The festival will start soon. Did he say where he was going?”
“Didn’t say, and I didn’t ask,” Aunt Pearl said. “Is the interrogation over or do I need to lawyer up?”
Tyler’s mouth turned up in an involuntary smile. “You really are funny.”
That only infuriated Aunt Pearl more. “Be smug all you want. I’ve got business to attend to.” She turned around and walked unsteadily away, heading for the exit door.
“She’ll sleep it off in her RV,” Mom said. “I’ll check on her later.”
Trina smiled. “It’s all good. If Richard’s late, then that buys Antonio more time to get back here before everything starts. I was worried he was going to be late and get disqualified.”
There was no reason why Trina, as a Lombard employee, couldn’t represent the winery, but over the years the festival had developed all sorts of arcane rules as excuses to disqualify contestants on technicalities. One of those rules was that the winery owner had to be in attendance.
That reminded me that my attendance wasn’t strictly social. While I had written articles about each contestant in the weeks leading up to the wine festival, my next feature required me to sample each wine at the festival along with the judges and give my own unbiased opinion. My ranking sometimes differed from the official results.
In fact, it almost always differed.
That was what Desiree had insinuated about Mom’s Witching Hour Red Merlot. Well, she wasn’t the boss of me, and I could write whatever I wanted. And I wouldn’t be lying if I praised the merits of Antonio’s lovely syrah. There wasn’t a thing Desiree could do about it.
Tyler squeezed my hand. “Once the judging—and the drama—is over for another year, I can finally surprise you. Any idea what it is yet?”
“No, because you won’t give me any hints.” Whenever I asked Tyler for clues, he was tight-lipped.
Mom smiled. “Ooh Cen…you’re going to be so happy!”
“You know about it too?” I asked. “When do I get to find out?”
“Soon,” Tyler said. “Very soon. Right, Ruby?”
“Can I have a hint?” I asked.
Just then Tyler’s cell phone buzzed and as he listened to the caller, his expression changed to one of deep concern. He looked at me and then Trina as he spoke into his phone.
He pulled his keys from his pocket, his face ashen. “That was Antonio.”
“I hope you told him to hurry up with the wine,” Trina said. “These two bottles won’t last five minutes.”
Tyler shook his head. “Forget all that. Richard’s dead. In the Lombard wine cellar.”
Chapter 10
“I’ve got to go. Cen, come with me.” Tyler turned on his heels and I followed.
I had a hard time keeping up with Tyler as he strode briskly across the floor and exited the gym. As we walked, he called the Shady Creek Police and requested assistance.
Tyler was the lone law enforcement in Westwick Corners, so the Shady Creek police assisted whenever we had major crime investigations. The larger town was located an hour away, so it would be awhile before assistance arrived. The CSI unit would meet us at the winery.
As a civilian, I couldn’t offer much more than moral support, but my powers of observation were good. Besides, as a journalist, I was headed to the crime scene one way or another.
“Antonio told me the fire department’s already there,” Tyler said as we headed across the parking lot to his parked Jeep. Our town was too small to employ paramedics. Volunteer firefighters trained in first aid were the first to arrive at any emergency scene. Most calls were for medical reasons, not fires.
A steady rain fell as Tyler unlocked the Jeep and motioned for me to climb into the passenger side.
As I took my seat, I saw that Richard’s convertible top was still down.
“Wait!” Trina ran across the parking lot after us. “I’m going with you.”
Before Tyler could object, she got into the backseat.
As Tyler pulled out of the parking lot into the street, I spotted Aunt Pearl’s massive RV, now parked on the street. Though the luxury motorhome was now legally parked, the pullouts were fully extended so that it still obstructed both pedestrian and vehicle traffic.
There was another problem. There were many more tables and chairs, which were now set up all along the boulevard. Dozens of people milled around, some walking on the road. I caught a flash of red and spotted Aunt Pearl in her sparkly sequined jumpsuit with a towel slung over her shoulder. She hadn’t gone to nap in her RV after all. Instead, she busily served drinks to a dozen or so people from a large tray precariously balanced on one skinny arm. Her drunken stagger moments ago had all been an act.
She looked up at that exact moment and our eyes met.
Just as quickly, she turned away, avoiding my gaze. She was up to something. I had no doubt about that. But whatever it was would have to wait.
I craned my neck to get a better look as we drove by. As I suspected, she had found a way to make
