A Saucy Murder: A Sonoma Wine Country Cozy Mystery (23 page)

“Were they still in the basket?” Emma asked.

“That’s the funny thing,” Carmen answered. “I couldn’t find the cards. Or the basket.”  She paused. “I need those cards. It’s what I do. I have to have the cards. So I went into the bedroom to ask Tonio if he knew where they were. But he’d gone back to sleep. When I woke him he got mad. He’s like that. First he said he didn’t know. Then he said he remembered he hid the basket under the bed because the kids were playing with it.”

“The kids?”  Emma interrupted. “Where were the kids?  You didn’t mention the kids before.”

“Oh, I forgot. The kids were at Tonio’s cousin’s trailer watching TV. Tonio sent them over there so we could get more sleep. They woke us up at 6:00 a.m., Emma.”

Emma started to wish she’d never come to the jail. She was getting more and more confused.

“Then we had an argument. Tonio wanted me to send the ugly twin away. But I went and got the basket anyway. Of course, all the cards were in it.”

“Was the ring in it?” Emma asked. Then regretted it.

Carmen’s eyes narrowed. “Why
would
it be?” she answered, starting to frown. “You think we stole that ring. You think we’re gypsies, so we steal things.”

“Of course not,” Emma replied, though she
was
starting to have doubts. “What happened next.”

The fifteen minutes were over. The guard motioned to Carmen to wrap things up.

“Next?”  A sullen look crossed Carmen’s face   “Next, I took the cards into the living room. But the ugly twin didn’t want me to read them anymore. Instead, she said that she felt sick. She wanted a drink of water. That’s when I realized Tonio was right. I should never have let her in the trailer. Roma like us have trouble enough. All I needed was for the ugly twin of the murdered beautiful singer to drop dead in our trailer. I went into the kitchen. While I was there, Tonio got dressed. He went into the living room and sent the ugly twin away. She was gone when I returned with the water.”

The guard took the phone out of Carmen’s hand while she spoke. Then he led Carmen out of the interview room. Carmen never looked back and she never said goodbye.

That was the trouble with trusting your gut, Emma thought as she drove back home on 101 in a downpour that slowed traffic to a crawl. Sometimes your gut got tied in a knot. Like hers was now.

After talking to Carmen, all Emma’s gut told her was that Carmen and Tonio had just as much opportunity and motive to kill as anyone else. As for means, the toxicology report was due out on Tuesday. But what would that prove?  Anyone could get hold of poison.

So far, she knew Sergio, the chef, had bought poison to kill the rat in his kitchen. Emma also was sure the police found rat poison in the Buchanons’ broom closet the night of the murder. Now that Carmen and Tonio were charged with the murder, she wondered if the police had bothered to ask the Buchanons about
that
. Suddenly, her gut told her everyone was guilty: the Roma, both Buchanons, Vera, Sacha the bass, Sergio the chef, and, of course, Chiara the understudy who still had the most to gain.

Emma’s thoughts were interrupted by an advertisement on a commuter bus stopped in the lane next to hers. It was an ad for City Opera. A photograph of Natasha Vasiliev, in full Trovatore costume, with her mouth wide open.

Emma checked the clock on the dashboard and gasped. It was quarter to five. She tried to remember exactly what time Jack said he would pick her up. Five fifteen, she assured herself waiting for the traffic to pick up speed. It had to be five fifteen.

But when she pulled into her driveway, the dark blue Tesla was already parked in front of her house. She watched Jack descend her front stairs with his umbrella and get back into his car.

Darn! Emma thought, noting the frown on his face. This was
sure
to make a bad impression.

Emma also noted that, wearing his well-tailored tuxedo, Jack looked almost distinguished. In a Hollywood Godfather sort of way. Then she scolded herself for being a jerk; and admitted he looked a
lot
better than most of the old geezers who would be at the Opera Opening Night.

“I was at the jail visiting Carmen,” she shouted getting out of her car and running to the house through the rain. She tried to make it sound like she’d been visiting a sick relative. Like it was part of the Sermon on the Mount or something. After all, hadn’t Jesus said, blessed are ye who visit the sick and the scapegoats like me unjustly locked up in prison?  She thought she remembered something like that.

But Emma could tell Jack didn’t buy it. He still looked irritated, and checked his watch before replying, “If there’s any traffic we’re gonna miss the appetizers. And I get pretty grumpy when I’m hungry.”

“Be down in a sec,” Emma assured him, sprinting up the stairs and into the house.

In fact, she changed out of her slacks in record time. No shower. Same underwear. She added stockings. She was dressed in the new skirt and top in five minutes flat. She skipped the old gold shawl. Who knew where
that
was?  Grabbed her black coat. And ran a comb through her hair. Then she looked for the sandals. Four minutes later she found them. In the closet under her boots.

But when she started to put them on, she finally remembered her toenails. She stared at them. They looked awful. But there was no time to worry about them now. It was also too late for makeup. She found an old clutch purse in the top drawer of her dresser, and stuffed in her wallet, keys and a lipstick. Then she dashed downstairs.

To her surprise, when she opened her front door and walked out on the porch, she heard a loud whistle.

“Wow!” Jack called from the car. “I’m impressed.” 

Emma blushed. Nobody had whistled at her in twenty years. Except for that valet when she’d forgotten to give him her car key.

“Thanks,” she called over her shoulder as she locked the front door. “I know I don’t look
that
great.”

Jack, she noted, did not get out of the car with his umbrella or open her door. As she slid into the leather passenger seat, flicking the rain drops off her hair, he replied. “I meant I’m impressed at how fast you got dressed.”  That was all he said.

They were almost in Petaluma when she turned to him. “I really apologize for being late, Jack. I needed to talk to Carmen. I didn’t think it could wait until tomorrow. It was about my hunch. The hunch you encouraged me to follow.”  She glanced at him, hoping he’d buy into this excuse since she gave him credit for it.

Instead, he continued to watch the road.

Emma noted, with relief, that so far traffic had not been heavy. So she took courage, and continued. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad I went to visit Carmen. Even though it meant being a little late. I found out some interesting things.”  She did not add, things that make me more confused than ever.

Jack didn’t ask about the interesting things; Emma felt she’d already said more than enough. They sat in silence for almost half an hour.

Then, as if to extend the distance between them, Jack reached for the radio dial to turn on the news.

Emma glanced at his hand. His tuxedo sleeve had pulled above his wrist revealing what, in the darkened interior of the car, looked like a gold bracelet. Emma mentally gagged. Men and gold bracelets!  How tacky. Then she realized it was a plain yellow plastic band.

She looked up. Jack was staring at her.

“It’s for cancer,” he explained. “I always wear it. So I don’t forget. That I didn’t appreciate her the way I should have. She died of cancer.”

“Oh,” Emma said. “I’m so sorry.”

“Please,” Jack replied. “Don’t misunderstand. I loved her, of course. But, seriously, I’m not being romantic. All I mean is, I miss her. Selfishly. I miss her a lot. It wasn’t until she was gone, that I realized how much I had never learned to do. How much
she
did all those years. She was a wonderful lady; and I never really appreciated her as much as she deserved.”

Tears sprang to Emma’s eyes as he spoke. Was that the best any of us can hope for, she wondered?  To be missed?  To be missed by someone like that? 

“At least you understand now,” was all she said.

Jack turned his head to look at Emma. He must have noticed her wipe her eyes. She felt embarrassed. She motioned with her hand for him to keep his eyes on the road.

“Just like my wife,” he laughed, as though to lighten the mood. “My friends think I’m crazy,” he continued. “You’re rich, they say. If you’re lonely find somebody new. And it’s true,” he nodded, “even some of the young ones. They throw themselves at me. And don’t get me wrong, they’re pretty. Some of them are downright beautiful. I admit it, a few years ago, once in a while I took the bait. But now, I’m thinkin’, what do these babes want with an old codger like
me
?  Well, I know what they want. They’re thinkin’, this old man’s gonna kick the bucket real soon, and I’m gonna get all his money.” 

Jack looked over at Emma again, and added, “That’s the Sicilian in me talkin’.”  He took his right hand off the wheel and pointed his index finger at her. “We’re realists.”

Emma laughed, thinking of Lexie Buchanon. Is that what Lexie was waiting for, she wondered?  Barry to kick the bucket?  Was
that
the rich couple bargain Julie had talked about? 

Instead of agreeing with Jack, however, she took the opposite tack. “Look,” she said, “I don’t see anything wrong with someone remarrying if they’re lonely. Young. Old. What difference does it make?  You only live once.”

“What about you?” Jack said.

“Me?” Emma answered.

“Yeah, you. Why didn’t you ever remarry?  You’re a good lookin’ woman,” he added as if
that
were the test.

Emma shrugged, uncomfortable with the question. “I’m not lonely,” she finally said.

Jack ignored her answer. “You wanna know what I think?” he said. “In my opinion, a woman like you would be crazy to get married.” 

“Why?” Emma asked. Then she added quickly. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I agree with you. I just want to hear why you think so.”

“Simple,” Jack replied. “See, at our age, men need women way more than women need men. What does that mean?”  He didn’t wait for an answer. “I’ll tell ya. It means that if you marry some old codger now, you’re gonna spend the rest of your life taking care of someone who hasn’t a clue how to take care of
you
. Because if that old codger was me, and had a wife doin’ everything for him, then he never learned how. Why would you want to do that again?  You probably been takin’ care of people for years.”

Emma thought for a moment. “I don’t know. Maybe because you loved the old codger?”  The answer embarrassed her as soon as she gave it. She blushed.

“Love?” Jack shrugged. “
That
kind of love?  The kind that makes you do irrational things?  At our age?”  He shook his head. “Nah, we’re too smart for that. I mean, at this stage of my life, I’m not 'fallin' in love’ like in the songs. At my age, I’d have to know someone
really really
well for that kind of love to develop. I don’t think I have that many years left.”

“You’re probably right,” Emma nodded. “But people our age don’t have to get married. They can take trips together,” she suggested, remembering her wonderful trip to Italy researching her book. Her old friend, Mary, went along. Right before she got sick. They had a ball.

Jack disagreed. “Tell me this. Men are tight with their money – except when it comes to food. We don’t like to shop. Most of us don’t care about museums, sunsets, or cutesy villages. We bring our computers and cell phones with us. And spend hours figuring out which bar has a satellite dish so we can watch the Super Bowl. Face it, we’re a pain in the neck. So why would a woman like you want to travel with a man?”  He glanced over at Emma. Then something about the look on her face did make him blush.

“Oh-oh.”  He shook his finger at her. “I know what you’re thinkin’. You’re naughty.”

Now Emma blushed. The man
had
read her mind.

He laughed. “In the old days it was us guys who only had one thing on our minds. Now, I swear, it’s you ladies.”  He shook his head. “Let’s get one thing straight, Emma. After losing my wife, I promised myself one thing. I’m not goin’ to bed with anyone I might get attached to. It was way too painful. I’m never goin’ through that again.”

As he finished speaking, he pulled up in front of the parking valet at Jardin.

The maitre d’ greeted Jack with an arm around his shoulder. Just like the time before.

“
Ciao bello
!” he said. “
Senti
. Listen to me, Jack. I’m still black and blue from that body check the other night.”  He turned to Emma and laughed. “Totally illegal!  Ever seen this guy play hockey?  He’s a madman. Blocks like a twenty year old. I can’t even roll over in bed. My wife is furious.”

“Tell your wife it’s not much of a game if you don’t take a few hits,” Jack replied.

Vince showed them to their table. Jack ordered a replay of the delicious wine and appetizers from the week before. Substituting a 2003
Dom Perignon Brut
for the
Nuits Saint
Georges
.

After the waiter uncorked the champagne, Emma continued to study the menu. One of the appetizers had caught her eye. Beluga blinis. Emma hadn’t noticed it before. The price tag was steep. $95. She’d been trying to figure something out ever since she left Carmen at the jail. How could she narrow down her list of suspects?  Suddenly she had the answer. It was going to be expensive; but she decided it was worth it.

As soon as the wine came, she closed her menu and gave it to their waiter. Then she excused herself to visit the ladies’ room. On her way back to the table she tapped Vince, the maitre d’, on the shoulder.

“Tonight,” she said, “at the dinner we’re attending after the opera. Is there some sort of seating plan?”

Vince motioned with his thumb to the private rooms at the rear of the restaurant. “For the party after the opera?”  He nodded. “Yes, you’re on the list. There’s a chart.”

“So, you know exactly where everyone is seated?” Emma asked.

Vince nodded again.

“Great,” Emma replied. “Here’s what I want you to do.”  That’s when she explained her plan to Vince. “You understand?” 

He took his iPhone from his dress suit pocket and made a note to himself. “Yeah,” he nodded. “I got it.”

Then he read the message back to her. When he finished, Emma handed him her credit card, crossing her fingers that VISA wouldn’t reject the charge. A few seconds later, she’d signed the receipt.

“What was that all about?” Jack asked when she returned to the table. “You checkin’ up on me?  Worried that maybe I play too rough?  Seriously, you wanna come and watch me play sometime?  The hockey rink’s in Santa Rosa.”

Emma laughed. “I don’t think so. I know nothing about hockey. But I’ve planned a little surprise for after the opera. I’ll tell you about it later.” 

Emma noticed that, for some reason, Jack looked disappointed. Like a kid whose mother missed his championship game. She thought to herself, some men never grow up.