One Foot in the Grape (15 page)

A
T
some point in the night I must have dragged myself to bed, because that's where I woke up the next morning. When I opened my eyes Nanook stood beside the nightstand and had his head next to mine on the pillow. He prodded me with his nose and I slowly sat up, expecting a painful headache at the very least. It was a surprise to find my head no longer throbbed. I ran my fingers through my hair, gliding them across where I'd been hit. It was tender but not nearly as bad as it might have been.

I let Nanook out the bedroom sliding door and reached for a fleece sweatshirt and pants. The sky was a mass of dark clouds carried in on a cold ocean breeze. We needed the rain to hold off for a few more days, to give Connor and the rest of the wineries time to pull in the harvest.

The bed was still occupied by Syrah, who eyed my
movements and waited for the promise of breakfast. When I found my walking shoes under the bed, she stretched, leaped to the ground and led me from the room.

I fed Syrah and grabbed a banana smeared with peanut butter for myself. As I ate, I dropped to the living room floor for a good stretch. Nanook saw what I was up to and howled at me through the glass door. He knew my stretching meant walk time.

I finished stretching, clipped his leash around my waist and slipped on my walking shoes.

It would have been easy to stay inside, where it was warm and cozy, but my pants were tighter than usual and I needed the exercise. Nanook was perfect company for these adventures. He was happy to let me set the pace and was always ready to turn around at the same point I was. Moreover, although he was a baby, he was big and scary-looking, which was just fine with me.

I thought about Hayley and her efforts to put Todd's death behind her. I'd told her we can always control our response to what we see and experience. I believed that, for the most part. Then I thought about Todd and what someone had done and realized even in this idyllic spot I wouldn't feel completely safe ever again.

About thirty minutes into our walk, I thought Nanook was reacting to my dark mood when he tensed beside me. As we came to the corner of our property, he gave a soft growl.

“What's up, boy?”

Nanook's fur stood on end. His body was stiff.

We were on a bluff that overlooked the rest of the valley. The breeze stirred the grasses on the slope below, silent except
the occasional blue jay. Another growl. I barely recognized Nanook. His teeth were bared, something I'd never seen, and he stared down the hillside. I grabbed his collar and clipped him onto his leash.

I still couldn't see anyone.

A voice came from the scrub brush below me. “You control that dog, missy.”

My own hackles rose. “You're trespassing and not in a position to give orders, Marvin. Come out of there.” No answer. I let the leash slide in my fingers, and Nanook pulled against my grip. “I mean it. I can't keep this hold on him much longer.”

I held my ground as Marvin made his way up the side of the hill and back onto the path. Binoculars swung from around his neck.

Marvin changed tactics when he saw Nanook's teeth up close. “Keep a tight hand on the leash of that animal. I wasn't doing nothin' wrong. Just looking at birds. I didn't even know this was your property.”

“How could you walk onto my property without knowing it? You had to go through the gate below. You couldn't have missed it. I can see it from here.”

“The gate was open when I came by. I forgot this section was part of your land.”

He turned to go down the path toward the gate, looking back at us over his shoulder. “I'll be sure to close it when I go out. Wouldn't want anything to happen to that animal of yours.”

Marvin made his way down the slope. He knew this was my land. He made his living knowing what stretch of grapes belonged to who. He didn't turn back as he walked the dirt trail
to the property boundary, a small cloud of dust behind him. Just before he darted through the gate, he looked over his shoulder. His arrogance had returned. He made a slow, sweeping bow to me as he swaggered through the gate, failing to shut it behind him.

Next to me, Nanook whined and strained against the leash. I started down the path after Marvin to close the gate. “I promise you, sweetheart, if we find him up here again, you get to eat him.”

After I had securely fastened the gate, I let Nanook off the leash and walked back up the slope. Marvin out bird-watching? Right.

As I reached the crest, I walked off the path where Marvin had been moments before. The hill dropped off sharply to the north, the mountain range in the distance. I walked to the edge of the bluff. Well, would you look at that. Below me, in a glorious checkerboard of grape varieties, was the rear of Martinelli Winery. The house, fermentation building and other structures, although somewhat distant, were in plain sight. I couldn't make out faces, but workers in the fields and people around the house were visible.

With a good pair of binoculars there wasn't much you'd miss. What had Marvin watched from here? Was it something to do with the sabotage? With Todd? The answer was hidden in plain view before me. I was sure of it. Concealed in the idyllic setting stretched out like a travel brochure. I knew it, and so did someone else.

I thought again of Marvin. Maybe he wasn't looking for someone. Maybe he was looking for something. Was he up here to ensure something he did remained hidden or because
he wanted to find something that someone else was trying to hide?

Todd's death had given Marvin job security. Just how much was that worth?

We were both out of breath when we returned, Nanook from running in circles and me because I didn't get out there often enough. We made it to the winery office, where Connor sat at the desk with Hayley. The time schedules for the remainder of the harvest were in front of them. Nanook threw himself down on the cold cement floor, but I couldn't relax.

“Marvin was on the property. Down at the south gate.”

“What was he doing?”

“He said he was bird-watching, but when I took a look myself you can see Martinelli perfectly from there. He also said he forgot the section he was on is part of our winery.”

“I'm going to be talking to Marvin.” Connor slammed the ledger shut.

I looked at him. “You remind me of Nanook. All that's missing is the bared teeth.”

“Did he try anything?”

“Like what? He comes up to my shoulders. Besides, he's afraid of Nanook. I just want to know what he was watching.”

“Or
who
he was watching,” Hayley said.

I nodded. “I wish I'd been able to see faces, but I needed Marvin's binoculars.”

“Here,” Connor said as I turned to leave. “These orders came in a little while ago. They might keep you out of trouble, at least for the rest of the morning.”

I smiled and took the orders. “Don't count on it.”

Connor looked over at Hayley. “She has such a
sweet
smile, too.”

*   *   *

BACK
at the house I put the orders on the patio table and turned on the hose to fill a small kiddy pool, which doubled as Nanook's water dish.

The banana and peanut butter seemed like ages ago, so I heated some tomato soup, my favorite. While I read over the orders, one for twenty cases, the phone rang. I was tempted to ignore it but thought Annie might call to check on me.

“Hello,” I mumbled between bites.

“Penelope Lively, are you eating and talking on the phone?”

“No.” I swallowed and vowed never to answer the phone again. “Hi, Antonia. How are you?”

“Well, frankly, I'm a bit disappointed.” Antonia sniffed. “From the looks of it you haven't made any progress on the sabotage, and now with Todd's murder it's even more crucial this is all cleared up quickly. Don't you understand how vital this is to my winery, to all the wineries, including yours? Tourism in the area is down, you know.”

Talk about single-minded. It wasn't a surprise her winery was the most successful in the valley, nor was it any surprise her family was a complete mess.

“Antonia, I'm trying to find out what I can, but you know the police—”

“The police have their own agenda, and it certainly isn't what's best for this winery.” There was a pause. “I liked Todd. He was a nice person and a good employee, so I have several reasons for wanting to get both the sabotage and murder cleared
up. I'm sure the police are doing everything they can, but I'd have thought that you, being the person who found Todd, as well as a fellow winery owner, would want it resolved as much as I do.”

This woman had shared a lot of history with my aunt, and I worked to keep my voice calm. “It'd be better if we talked in person. Why don't I come by tonight and tell you everything I've come up with so far. Not all of it is flattering, especially about Chantal and Francesca. I'll tell you everything I know, but I just wanted to give you some warning.”

There was a pause. “Yes. Well. I appreciate that. Now, what are your plans for this afternoon?”

“This afternoon?”

“Yes, this afternoon. Surely your hearing isn't going along with your phone manners.”

I fought off the impulse to slam the phone down. “Actually, I was planning on heading up to Monterey to talk with Todd's mother.”

There was a sharp intake of breath. “Ah, there, you see? A fine idea. Well, good luck in your search, and I'll expect a full report at seven this evening. Sharp.”

The line went dead. So much for phone manners. I took a quick shower, threw on a knit sweater and jeans and piled my unruly hair on top of my head. When I was finished, I called the restaurant and got Ross on the phone. “It's me. Got a minute?”

“I've got more than that. Get over here. I have a new creation for dessert and I want your opinion. The pastry is lighter than air.”

“Maybe, but I won't get any lighter if I take you up on every dessert. Is Joanne working in the gift shop today?”

Ross dropped his voice a notch. “Why, has something happened? If I tell you whether or not she's here, will you tell me what you want with her?”

“That's easy. I just wanted to know if Todd's mother still lives in Monterey.”

“Oh. Nothing exciting. Well, anyway, this is your lucky day.”

“So, can I talk to her?”

“No, she isn't here.”

“If she isn't there, why is this my lucky day?”

“Because not only do I know for a fact that his mother still lives in the area, I have her address.”

“I hate to ask why.”

“It's a perfectly legitimate reason.” Ross sniffed. “When Todd and Joanne were engaged, Marilyn called to see if I'd cater the wedding. Her contact information is all I really know about her, other than the fact she has exquisite taste in caterers. Hold on and I'll get you the address.”

I
FINISHED
the sales orders, printed directions to Marilyn's house and walked back down to the winery office. “Nice couple of sales. It's been a good month.”

Hayley looked up. “In more ways than one. I'm checking the sugar level in a bit.” She held up a refractometer. “It's going to be a long day.”

Hayley would squeeze the juice of a grape sample into the refractometer to measure the sugar in the grapes, the best way besides actually tasting the grapes to determine when to pick.

“Before I go, do you want me to make you something to keep on the stove?”

Connor and Hayley looked at each other.

“What? I can manage something.”

“We'll just grab a pizza later.”

“So pizza sounds better than something I'd make. Homemade.”

Connor smiled. “Yup. Pretty much.”

Hayley nodded in agreement.

“Fine. I know when I've been insulted. Heathens. I'm heading to see Todd's mother. Be back in a while.”

I started the car, pushed up my sweater sleeves in the warm autumn sun and tied a scarf around my head, à la Grace Kelly. Very dramatic.

I pulled out of the drive and scanned the horizon. The clouds were gone and the sky was clear. One more day for the grapes to ripen. Basically we were farmers. We lived at the whim of the weather. A thunderstorm right now would be devastating. I knew from Connor the grapes needed to be picked soon because the sugar was almost perfect, but if the rain came first the fruit would be waterlogged, and the entire vintage would taste diluted.

I drove north to Monterey, past the famed seventeen-mile drive of Pebble Beach. The Monterey Peninsula's famous landscape swept before me, an oasis of coastal bluffs, sandy beaches and a forest of pine and cypress trees.

A short time later I took the central off-ramp into downtown, pulled to the side of the road and checked my directions. Marilyn lived on a street in an older but well-maintained section of town. I drove along the tree-lined residential streets and considered my options. Here was a woman who'd just lost her son while employed by the same family responsible for the loss of her land. Granted, Antonia had nothing to do with Francesca's behavior, but no doubt Marilyn had made the connection. I'm sure she wished neither one of them had ever met any of the Martinellis.

I parked across the street from the house, a little brick-and-ivy-covered Tudor. Moss grew in between the stones of the
flagstone walk, and lush flower beds in russets and yellows framed the front of the house. The effect was warm and inviting. As I sat and contemplated my next move, an English Springer Spaniel raced around the corner of the house, ears flying. I didn't want it to run into traffic, so I opened the door, ran across the street and knelt down. The dog cleared the ground and sailed into my arms, tail wagging furiously. I heard the voice before I saw anyone. “Dollie, please come here. I just can't do this today.”

A woman came around the corner of the house, a towel in her hands. I judged her to be about fifty, with sandy brown hair cut short and puffy around her face. She was a tiny thing. Even with high-heeled sandals made from that jute material, she couldn't have been more than five-foot-two.

Still on my knees, I continued to hold Dollie.

“Thanks so much. She loves her bath and usually we play catch for a few minutes beforehand. I just want to skip that part today.”

“You must be Marilyn.”

Marilyn walked over and took Dollie's collar, the question in her eyes.

“My name is Penny Lively. I was a friend of Todd's and I wonder if I could have a few moments of your time.” I stood.

Marilyn looked blankly at me. “You were a friend of Todd's? I'm sorry, but I don't ever remember him mentioning you.”

“I knew him through his work at the winery. I own a winery nearby. Also”—I searched for connections—“I'm good friends with Ross and Thomas. They own the restaurant and gift shop where Joanne works.”

“Oh.” She was clearly undecided.

“We can talk and give Dollie a bath at the same time if you like.”

At her name, Dollie spun her head toward me, straining to come say hello. I reached for the little dog, who pulled away from Marilyn and began running in circles around me.

In spite of her reservations, Marilyn began to smile. “I'm a great believer in the intuition of animals. Recommendations don't get much better than seeing that Dollie approves. Come on around back. If you don't mind watching her, I'll get us some iced tea and an extra towel. I hope you don't mind getting wet.”

I smiled. “I have a dog that hates bath time. He makes sure I get every bit as wet as he does.”

Marilyn led the way to the rear of the house. It was a big yard, neatly kept, with a side garden and play area. While she went across the patio with its potted geraniums and daisies and through the rear door of the house, I played fetch with Dollie.

Marilyn came back out, placed the iced tea and towels on the picnic table and walked to the yellow plastic basin at the side of the house.

“Normally at this time of year I heat water and give her a bath on the sunporch. In the nice weather, though, I like to give her baths outside. It's easier for me, and then she gets to air-dry in the sun.”

I looked over at the garden. Autumn crops of squash, pumpkins, cucumbers and late tomatoes were ripe and ready to pick.

Marilyn saw my interest. “Usually in October I spend two or three hours a day out there and in the kitchen pickling and canning. I decided this morning I'm not up to it this year. I'm taking it all to the food bank.”

I scanned the back play yard, complete with swings and a slide. “Do you have other children?” I turned on the hose.

Marilyn squirted eucalyptus-scented doggie soap into the streaming water.

She smiled. “At my age? Heavens no. Oh, I know the trend now is for women in their forties to have children, but even if I could, to still have children playing on swings at fifty? I don't have the energy. No, I kept the swings because the neighborhood children like coming over, and then after Joanne and Todd married . . .”

Her voice broke off and she turned to wipe her eyes on her sleeves.

I gave her a minute while I turned off the water and set Dollie into the soapy tub.

“It's funny,” she reached into the water. “I keep thinking I've cried all I can, that at some point I'm going to be empty. I am empty, completely, yet the tears keep coming.”

She sat back on her heels and looked out at the garden. “Gardening gives you such an awareness of the seasons. You plant, you watch it grow and you reap the rewards of your hard work and loving care. There's a rhythm, an order to things.” She turned to look at me. “I'm burying my son on Saturday, and my world will never be the same.”

I massaged Dollie behind the ears. “I'm truly sorry for your loss. Todd was a good man. I'm sure he was a wonderful son.”

“Thank you.” Marilyn wiped her eyes once more and turned toward the squirming dog. “And now, Miss Dollie, kindly hold still while we rinse off this soap.”

Dollie was soon towel-dried and chasing the ball I threw from the deck.

“Have a seat.” Marilyn handed me a glass of the tea.

“I understand you used to be a vineyard owner as well.” I took a drink of the tea. “Wow, this is delicious.”

“Thanks. I make it with lavender and lemongrass from the garden. Now”—Marilyn took a deep breath—“vineyard owner. Yes, my husband and I owned nearly one hundred acres of grapes at one point. Pretty land. Out on Colony Lane. Of course, we never ran our own labels, but we took a certain amount of pride in our harvests. We made a good income from them too.” Marilyn paused. “If you know I no longer have the vineyard, then perhaps you also know Francesca Martinelli is now the owner.”

“I was told she wanted to purchase the property and that you refused at first.”

“Yes, I did refuse. She offered an extremely low price. Not that I had any intention of selling. As you know, people don't sell land here. It runs in families. That land was Todd's. I would have refused at any price.”

Marilyn poured herself more tea. “But my refusal to sell wasn't enough to make Francesca go away. Not nearly. After about a year of her calling, insisting and finally threatening, I found out just how much Francesca wanted my vineyards when all of the regular wineries I'd been selling to for years wouldn't touch my crop. Not at any price.

“None of them actually said that she was the reason, of course. Some of them loaned or even offered me money outright to help out, but several of them made strong hints I should consider Francesca's offer. They made it clear they wouldn't be buying my crop. Not that year or any other.”

“I know how important the Martinelli family is around here, but why would they refuse to buy your crop just because Francesca asked them to?”

“She didn't use her family connections, although I'm sure it didn't hurt. For one thing, as often as I've heard Antonia
is tough, I've also heard she's fair. I can only imagine she wouldn't want her daughter using the Martinelli name in a way that would hurt the family image.”

“You know Antonia better than you think. If she found out Francesca used her family connection to strong-arm other wineries into refusal of your crop, especially for Francesca's own gain, she'd be livid.”

“That's what I've always thought. I suppose I could've gone to her at the time, but frankly, I didn't think of it. I would never have guessed Francesca would sink to the depths she did to get the land from me, and by the time I understood what she was capable of, the damage was done.”

“What did she do?” I waited. That is, I waited as long as I could. About five seconds.

“Marilyn?”

“Let me think how to say this.” She paused. “One of the wineries—I made a promise to keep their name out of this—told me Francesca was telling all of the wineries if they bought my crop, she'd get a court order saying my grapes had been contaminated with DDT. Once the grapes are mixed, it's impossible to separate contaminated from noncontaminated, and they'd lose their entire year. For a functioning winery, the loss would be insurmountable.”

“That's crazy. If one or some of the wineries decided to buy from you, Francesca wouldn't know who it was and couldn't touch them.”

“That's what I thought, and I was ready to fight, at the urging of some of the winery owners. Most of them are good people who were put in bad position.” Marilyn looked out over the garden.

“I would have kept fighting, but then one day I got an
anonymous letter telling me to have my crop analyzed. Sure enough, they
were
sprayed with a fertilizer contaminated with DDT. Not a lot, but enough to make my entire crop unusable. It's easy enough to find a crop duster to spray. It's possible to find one willing to spray for money under the table. Or, even more likely, the duster didn't question the job or the authority of the person asking. Why would anyone fertilize a crop that didn't belong to them?”

“Where did the DDT come from? I thought it was illegal.”

“It isn't hard to find. It's still around in small amounts, even though it was banned years ago. At that point, I didn't have a crop to sell, or any proof of who was responsible.”

Marilyn took a drink. “She's an attorney. Something she often reminded me of. Even if I had some way of proving it, fighting Francesca would have taken everything, more than I had. Todd would have helped as much as he could, but when he heard I was going to have to use my house as collateral to raise money to pursue a lawsuit, Todd told me to let it go.”

Marilyn pressed her hands to her face. I had to lean in to hear her words.

“Even though that land was really being held for him, he told me to let it go.”