Murder Alfresco #3 (17 page)

“Really. I didn’t know.”

“Ové never forgets a face,” said Daniela.

Ové continued to stare at her. She looked away uncomfortably. When she looked back, he gave her another wink, smiling placidly, while the conversation turned to the day’s events at the racetrack. She smiled back stiffly, wondering if it had been a second wink or only a twitch. A twitch seemed most likely. She turned to Bruce Knolls, who was telling the story of how
he’d met the director of the Ferrari dealership and struck up a friendship. Bruce looked about fifty, with short brown hair and basic Northern European good looks. He carried himself with confidence, like a man who has achieved his life goals with time and energy to spare. Sunny took inventory while he talked. He was wearing a submariner Rolex and, judging by the cut and fabric, a Brioni jacket. Even on sale, a jacket like that could set a guy back a couple thousand dollars. The Rolex might be white gold or platinum, but she was ready to guess steel. Bruce Knolls had wealth, but not outrageous wealth, and discriminating taste without the need to flaunt his worldly advantages to excess. Definitely a steel Rolex man. It was equally clear that he was a second lifer, one of those men who migrate to the valley of dreams to try a second marriage and second career, only this time on his terms. There would be no children, no late nights at the office, and no worrying about making ends meet every month. This time around, his work and marriage would be about passion and personal fulfillment. This time, he would focus on what really mattered before it was too late to enjoy it.

His second wife was nothing short of dazzling. Kimberly Knolls had attracted and held the room’s attention from the moment she entered it. The effect was partly due to her choice of attire. She was wearing a strapless gown, full-length, and made of shimmering white satin. It had a slit on the side that ran up to her hip, exposing a petite but shapely leg. Her golden skin contrasted beautifully wherever it met the white satin, as, for example, at the clean white line of the bodice. Around her neck was a diamond choker that lived up to its name, sitting high on her neck and fastened snugly. The leftover chain fell down her back to a teardrop emerald that rested between her shoulder blades. She wore her black hair pulled back tightly, drawing attention to
delicate features and eyes heavily made up with black liner and frosted shadow. She looked to be of Asian or possibly Polynesian descent, and somewhere in her thirties or early forties. She might have looked younger if it weren’t for a certain fatigue discernable around the eyes and mouth. As beautiful as she was, up close she gave the impression of being very tired.

The group moved toward a nearby table. The white-gloved server went through again, urging them to take their seats. Rivka picked a spot and Ové took the place next to her, with Daniela on his other side. Sunny chose a seat opposite them, next to Wade, who sat next to Kimberly Knolls. Bruce Knolls sat next to his wife. Wine was poured. Sunny asked Kimberly how she and Bruce had met. Kimberly laughed and told the story of how they’d fallen in love from a distance at a resort in Cancún, while each of them was there with someone else. Bruce tracked her down when he got back and the rest was history. Servers came around with wine, and the discussion turned to Bruce’s goals for the winery.

Sunny glanced across the table and Ové met her eyes, his mouth expressionless, and winked at her again. She started. Obviously Ové Obermeier suffered an embarrassing nervous tic. Sunny made a mental note to politely show no reaction if it happened again, and turned toward Kimberly, leaning in so she could see past Wade.

“Wasn’t that terrible about that poor girl who was killed?” she said. “When I read about it in the paper, I could hardly believe it could happen in St. Helena.”

Kimberly stared. Bruce replied for her. “It is utterly tragic. We’ve started raising money for a scholarship in her name, but that won’t bring her back of course. I’m sure her family is devastated.”

“You took it upon yourself to create a scholarship in her name?” said Sunny. “That’s incredibly generous.”

“Do we have to talk about such a morbid topic at dinner?” said Kimberly. She put her hands on the table and straightened the silverware with fluttering fingers. “I’d like to forget about that business for just one night.”

Bruce put a hand on his wife’s. “It’s been hard for us. The girl who died was left at our winery. Maybe you didn’t know. That’s where she was found.”

Sunny made what she hoped was a shocked and mortified face. “How awful. I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I read the article but I didn’t even notice where she was found. You didn’t know her, did you?”

“Of course not,” snapped Kimberly. “Don’t be ridiculous. Some maniac just decided to ruin our lives at random.”

“Let’s change the subject,” said Daniela loudly from the other side of the table. “I personally would love to hear more about the race cars Tux and Rachael collect back in Texas.”

“You won’t hear it from me,” said Rivka, playing the wife. “I stay out of that car business. I don’t think Tux even likes me to go inside the stable where he keeps them. He treats them like his newborn babies. We have to keep our hands in our pockets and lower our voices when we’re anywhere near them.”

The table chuckled politely, grateful for the effort to lighten the mood, while Bruce stroked Kimberly’s hand and whispered to her supportively. The first course arrived and Rivka made a face at Sunny when they saw the plump filets and mixed vegetables. While they ate, Wade entertained the table with descriptions of each of his race cars and the international adventures it took to acquire them.

“I once flew all the way to Milan just to see a car. It was exactly the car I wanted, and there were only three of them in the world, as far as I could tell, and two of them weren’t for sale. I though I was the luckiest cowboy west of the Mississippi. The only problem was, turns out the guy selling it didn’t own it. I didn’t find that out until after I’d paid him. Took three weeks chasing him all over the countryside from Roma to Palermo to get my money back.”

Sunny ate her dinner without tasting it and listened to the conversation without participating, keeping to herself so she could think. It was understandable that Kimberly would be upset, but it struck her as the wrong kind of upset. Instead of being saddened or shaken by what had happened, she seemed angry. It was the kind of anger that suggested resentment, or perhaps barely contained fear. Given the situation, it was reasonable for her to be frightened. Or was it? Was there really any direct threat to her? If it really was a random act, as she said it was, then she had little to fear. But if she suspected the girl had been left there for a reason—and Sunny had never believed the girl was left there at random, there being nothing random about the careful presentation she had encountered—it would be very unnerving indeed.

The police knew nothing to link the Knolls to Heidi Romero, that much seemed certain. Sergeant Harvey would have said so, or at least hinted at as much. If Kimberly Knolls was frightened, and if the police knew nothing, then Kimberly Knolls had a secret. She looked like the kind of woman who had a lot of secrets. What if she knew exactly why Heidi Romero was left at her winery, but she didn’t dare tell the police. Then she would be alone, waiting for her fears to come get her. Did Bruce know?
Whatever it was that connected them to Heidi Romero, were they trying to hide it together?

Sunny looked around the table, realizing she hadn’t heard anything anyone had said in quite some time. Ové looked at her and winked. She was certain now he had an unfortunate tic, and she replied with an encouraging smile.

Her wineglass had been refilled without her noticing. The more she thought about it, the more certain she was that Kimberly Knolls was hiding something. The question was how to find out what it was without causing a scene. Unable to come up with a way, Sunny tuned back into the dinner conversation. Bruce Knolls was explaining where he sourced his grapes, and what he paid for them. Daniela looked at Sunny and smiled, giving her a solid wink. Sunny stared. Daniela smiled coyly. If Ové had a tic, perhaps, from years of living together, Daniela had picked it up. Or maybe it wasn’t a tic. Maybe he started doing it on purpose, liking to establish a jovial camaraderie with new acquaintances, and she had picked up the habit. Between dinner and dessert there was more winking by both Ové and Daniela, and a commotion from Rivka’s side of the table. Wade looked at them. “What’s going on over there?”

“Nothing,” said Rivka. “I thought something disgusting was crawling on my leg, but it turned out to be nothing.”

When dessert arrived—a thoroughly edible apple tart with vanilla bean gelato—Sunny realized her time was running out. She leaned past Wade. “Kimberly, how did you come to name the winery Vedana? I’m not familiar with the word.”

“It was called Acorn Flat when we bought it,” said Kimberly. “We wanted something more exotic and evocative. I liked the way
vedana
sounds. In Buddhism, you could say it’s almost a negative term. It means sensation, which is what causes attachment
to experience. That attachment leads to pain, which keeps the whole wheel of samsara turning. But we thought it was a beautiful word that could be reinterpreted, albeit in a slightly naïve Western sense, in a positive light. Sensation, like attachment, has its good side, from our perspective.” She leaned over and gave Bruce a kiss on the cheek.

“Where did you study Buddhism?” asked Sunny.

“At the Zen Center in Marin. Years ago.”

“Zen is Japanese, isn’t it?” said Sunny. “Did you ever go to Japan?”

“No. It wasn’t like I was a student of religion. I practiced meditation at the center and read some books. I was in a difficult place in my life at the time, and I found sitting meditation helpful.”

Sunny thought for a moment. If she was going to get any of her questions about Kimberly Knolls answered, she was going to have to be more direct, and quickly. People were already getting up and mingling with other tables. At that moment, her lucky break came from the other side of the table.

“I love Japan,” said Daniela. “Tokyo is such a sexy city. There’s nothing like it in Europe or the Americas.” Her eyes were half closed and her head dipped as she looked across the table at Sunny. She swallowed what was left of her wine and laughed out loud, leaning into her husband. “Ové loves Japan, don’t you, darling?”

Ové took the glass gently from his wife’s hand. “It is a fascinating place. If you consider the contributions Japan has made to world culture, especially considering the size of the country, it’s really quite remarkable. Geisha, samurai, Godzilla, sushi, Zen, the kimono, the tea ceremony, ikebana, tatami. So many things I love are Japanese.”

“And the latest contributions, manga comic books and anime films,” said Sunny.

Ové’s eyes lit up. “You are absolutely right. You still have to go to Japan to get the best manga and anime, but it’s finally starting to catch on here. Some of those films are works of art. Future classics.”

“You’re forgetting the truly great contribution,” said Rivka. “Pokémon.”

“Every culture has its weak points. Pokémon and pachinko I could live without.”

“Aren’t some anime films pornographic?” said Sunny.

“Some are, but most aren’t. Either way, they can be quite beautiful.” This statement was followed, no surprise, by a wink.

Sunny took a gulp of Merlot. “But aren’t they terribly violent? I’ve never seen one, but my boyfriend said they’re extremely degrading to women and usually involve torture and bondage scenes.”

“As opposed to Western pornography, which isn’t degrading to women?” he said. “At least nobody gets hurt making bondage cartoons. You can’t say the same thing about pornography shot with real people.”

“Quite true,” said Sunny.

The conversation rolled to a stop and stayed there. Daniela had her eyes closed and her head against Ové’s shoulder. Kimberly excused herself. When she came back, she and Bruce said good night. Ové coaxed a thoroughly tipsy Daniela out of her chair and persuaded her to walk with him and collect their coats. She stopped to plant a kiss on Wade Skord’s forehead. “I like him,” she told her husband loudly on their way out.

Wade scrubbed at his wiry gray hair, looking embarrassed. “Let’s get out of here. I’m beat.”

“You can’t drive,” said Rivka, “and I can’t even walk. We’re going to have to sleep here.”

“When did everyone get all loosey-goosey?” said Sunny.

“How could you not? They poured about a dozen different wines.”

Sunny noticed for the first time the collection of wineglasses, all of them full, crowded at the top of her plate. “Come on, I’ll drive.”

A ghost landscape waited outside
. The moon, a lopsided yellow spectacle that filled the valley floor with shadows, loomed over Atlas Peak like an alien visitation. Sunny kept her eyes straight ahead on the parking lot, avoiding the hillside covered with oak trees rising to the right, wary of catching a glimpse of any unusual shapes the shadows might hold. She was relieved to reach the car. Wade handed her the keys to his old Volvo station wagon and they got in.

Rivka closed her door with a loud sigh. “That might be the strangest dinner party I have ever attended.”

“I thought it was fairly civilized,” said Wade from the backseat. “Except the part where McCoskey went fishing for murder suspects and nearly gave Kim Knolls a nervous breakdown.”

Sunny backed out and headed down the winery’s long driveway. “Awkward, but necessary, not that it yielded much. What did you think of Kimberly Knolls?”

Wade whistled. “A very tidy package. That was a naughty man’s naughty dream girl if I’ve ever seen one.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Just a feeling. In my experience, contrary to the familiar saying, you can tell quite a bit about a book by its cover, and that
cover said, ‘I’m a nasty, naughty girl who likes a good, hard spanking.’”

“Saucy critter!” said Sunny. “Do you think so?”

“I know so. Wade Skord didn’t fall off the pumpkin wagon just yesterday. I’ve circulated among plenty of bad girls in my time, and I’m ready to bet the vineyard that Kimberly Knolls has a naughty streak six lanes wide. If Bruce Knolls, that lucky devil, isn’t turning her over his knee on a regular basis, I’ll hand in my bachelor’s card and become a nun.”