The Purloined Letter Opener Page 7

  She was going to have to figure out how to talk with Detective Avery in private about that. It was just for Alice’s sake. Not that she wanted to be closer to the man. Really.

  13

  Lydia was surprised to see the detective’s name on the list of people attending the wine tasting Friday evening. Then again, maybe he wanted to experience some of the wines in the area without having to worry about drinking and driving. It was one of the reasons why Lydia offered the wine tastings at the B&B now and again. Most of the people who attended were staying with her, or were in walking distance, so she didn’t have to worry too much about accidents.

  She was happy that Theo had agreed to attend, though she suspected what had made him accept, at least in part, was that she’d waive the tasting fee for him. She wasn’t about to pay for any bottles he might purchase, but she’d certainly let him try anything open for free.

  That night, Lydia had gotten her friend Bill from the Blue Pond Winery to come and run the tasting. Bill was an older, jovial man, who could play Santa Claus all year round with his pink cheeks, button nose, and white beard and mustache. Bill’s partner Peter was exactly the opposite, being tall, thin, dark, and somewhat dour.

  As Blue Pond’s tasting room was more than three hours away from Lake Hope, neither of the two regular bus tours of the local vineyards would include it. So Bill was usually amenable to coming into Lake Hope to do a tasting at Lydia’s B&B. Lydia really liked their wines as well. During the week she didn’t serve alcohol with breakfast or lunch, but on the weekends she’d serve mimosas in the mornings and beer in the afternoons.

  One of the reasons why Lydia didn’t bother serving wine at the restaurant was she could never choose which ones to serve. She didn’t want to slight any of the local vineyards by only serving one variety, and she always felt overwhelmed by the sheer number of wines that were available. Plus, they changed all the time! No, better to just arrange tastings now and again, letting every vineyard who wanted to come in and serve.

  Lydia had met Bill when she’d first come back to Lake Hope, almost ten years ago, though she’d known his partner Peter for ages. She’d considered working at a winery, maybe managing a wine tasting room. However, she was aware that she didn’t make a good employee. She’d always been better working for herself. Something else that her ex, Neil, had never quite grasped.

  Bill arrived just after six PM in a brand new van the winery had recently bought, with a wrap that covered the sides and back, advertising the winery and its wines. It was beautifully done, tastefully executed. Lydia knew Ed and Alan would have approved.

  “Hi, Bill!” Lydia said, coming out of the kitchen and greeting him as he came into the restaurant. He wore one of his typical Hawaiian shirts, this one with a background of navy blue and decorated with bright yellow-orange pineapples. He was always threatening to retire someday to Hawaii, except that he was having too much fun here. His khaki shorts ended just above the knees, showing powerfully muscled legs.

  Bill came over and gave her a great bear hug. It was comforting, like getting a hug from Ed or Alan. Bill was quite tall, and was easily able to put a kiss on the top of Lydia’s head.

  “How are you doing?” Bill asked, pulling back so he could look Lydia square in the eye.

  “I’m fine,” Lydia assured him, unsure why he seemed so concerned.

  “We heard about the murder,” Bill explained, shaking his head and letting go of Lydia after giving her biceps one last squeeze. “Horrible.”

  “It is,” Lydia said. “I just keep hoping that it wasn’t someone in town who did it.” That was the one thought that continued to haunt her.

  Bill tilted his head to the side. “But it’s probably someone from near here, isn’t it?” he said. “No one liked Schooner Thomas.”

  Lydia nodded. “I know. It’s just my foolish hope.” She paused, then asked, “How are you? How is Peter?”

  Bill brightened up considerably. “We’re fine. I’ve just opened up one of the new chardonnays for tasting before we bottle it. I think you’ll like it.”

  “Excellent,” Lydia said. “I’ve made room for the crates in the walk-in. And we’ll have the same setup as usual—serve from behind the counter out here in the restaurant, with some cheese, crackers, fresh grapes, and salami.”

  “Good,” Bill said. “I’ll start bringing the crates in.” He turned, paused, then turned back with a pensive look on his face. “There was something else I was supposed to tell you. Something about a guest.”

  Lydia looked blankly at him. “I don’t know,” she said after a few moments.

  “Ack, it’ll come back to me,” Bill said, turning and leaving the restaurant.

  Lydia smiled and shook her head. How typical of the older man, to almost remember something. He did it all the time.

  She walked back into the kitchen and went back to slicing the cheese she’d be serving, arranging it artfully on pretty platters. Though she’d be helping Bill throughout the evening, restocking bottles as well as food plates, she hoped she’d be able to slip away long enough to talk both with Theo as well as Detective Avery.

  That was the plan, at any rate.

  The wine tasting started at seven. Theo was there promptly. He actually looked better, less haunted. He was still in dorky looking shorts and sandals, though at least his black T-shirt looked as though it fit him and wasn’t a hand-me-down from a larger relative.

  Was he so relaxed because he’d finally killed his archenemy?

  Lydia chided herself for automatically leaping to the worst possible conclusion. No, her brother was probably relaxed because he’d been staying out on their parents’ property. They had three-fourths of an acre, well maintained, with pyramid pines all around it, acting both as a wind break as well as a very effective privacy fence. The house itself wasn’t much, three tiny bedrooms crammed into a thousand square feet. The outdoor porch was enclosed so they could use it year-round, giving them all much needed space.

  “Hey, Lydia,” Theo said. He actually came over to where she stood behind the counter, though he didn’t hug her.

  While Lydia hugged her parents regularly, she and Theo had never been that close.

  He looked around the space. “Is there something I can help with?”

  Lydia blinked, surprised. She’d always considered Theo the epitome of laziness. He never offered to help. Maybe Jasmine had finally whipped him into shape. Or an alien had stolen the original copy of Theo and this was a pod person she was talking to.

  “Naw, we’re good,” she said. She introduced Theo to Bill, then turned to greet the next guests who’d come up to the counter.

  Bill separated those coming in for the tasting into groups, easily keeping track of where everyone was in terms of the tasting menu. He’d printed several copies of the list of the wines being served tonight and walked people through the sequence, from light whites to heavier reds.

  Lydia was always fascinated listening to him talk about the notes each wine had. While her palette was getting better, she knew that she’d never be able to match his. When he talked of blueberry and blackberry notes, all she got was berry.

  The twelve people who were staying at the B&B attended the tasting that night, along with a few locals, plus another two dozen or so who came in off the street, either walking by or who had been told about the tasting. There were a couple of vacation rental owners who Lydia had sent an email to about the event, as well as the owner of the other B&B just up the street.

  Lydia collected glasses and washed them regularly, resupplied Bill when bottles were nearly empty, and filled orders from the cases back in the kitchen.

  It wasn’t until near the end of the night that Lydia managed to have a private word with Theo. He’d spent the evening chatting with people, almost like an additional host. She’d seen him laughing more than once. It had startled her when she’d realized that she didn’t remember the last time she’d heard him laugh.

  But she found him alone, sipping a g
lass of the very fine Cabernet that Bill had brought. He sat at the table closest to the unlit fireplace, looking out on the room with a slight smile.

  Lydia slipped into the chair beside him. “Some night, eh?”

  Theo turned and grinned at her. “So this is what you do for excitement?”

  Lydia nodded. “I work. Then I work some more.”

  Theo snorted. “I see that.” Then he turned more serious. “You’ve got a good place here. Good people.”

  “Thanks,” Lydia said, surprised but pleased that he’d noticed. She paused, then the words just came tumbling out. “You want to tell me what really brought you back to Lake Hope?”

  Theo stiffened immediately.

  Damn it! She should have waited. But Lydia had never been one to beat around the bush.

  Theo appeared to make a decision and relaxed slightly. “I really did need to sort some things out. I’m still not ready to talk about it. But mainly, I needed to come back here and figure out what was real from my past and what was all in my head.”

  “Okay,” Lydia said slowly. She’d experienced a little of that when she’d come back home after her divorce, things not being as she’d remembered. She had the impression, though, that Theo had something specific in mind, not just the streets being narrower or the lake being so much more peaceful than she’d remembered.

  “Do you want to tell me what was going on with you and Patrice?” Lydia finally asked, figuring she should get all her questions out on the table. “I mean, it was obvious when you saw her that something was going on.”

  Theo looked pensive. “That, too, is something you’re just going to have to wait on. Along with what I had against Schooner Thomas.” He paused, then raised his glass in a toast. “Here’s to those finally dying who deserved it.”

  Lydia blinked, surprised at the vehemence in his voice. “You really hated him, didn’t you?”

  Theo nodded but didn’t say anything more, just took another swig of wine from his glass. “And yes, the police have already contacted me about coming in for an interview. Appears my timing was perfect, coming into town when I did. With no one to vouch for my whereabouts Friday evening.” He shrugged again. “I took a walk late that night. Someone spotted me in the neighborhood.”

  “Did you kill him?” Lydia said simply. She watched her brother carefully, looking to see if there was a flinch or some other sort of tell.

  Theo looked directly at her. “I did not,” he said distinctly. “Though I’d like to shake the hand of whoever did.”

  Lydia may not have been close to her brother, but she believed him. “Then we just have to make sure that the police understand that you didn’t do it.”

  Theo blinked, a surprised look crossing his face. “Thanks, sis.”

  Lydia threw a skeptical look at him.

  “No, I mean it. I’m not being sarcastic for once,” Theo assured her. “It’s…nice to know that you believe me. That you’d stick up for me. Not many people would.”

  “Then you have the wrong friends,” Lydia declared.

  “I’m just starting to appreciate that,” Theo said. He pointed with his chin over her shoulder. “But I think you need to go play hostess with your other guests now.”

  Lydia turned around to see who Theo meant. Detective Avery sat all by himself in the opposite corner, closest to the door, looking pensively out the window.

  “First, I need to clear the glasses in here,” Lydia said. “Then I’ll go talk with him.” She stood, then reached over and gave Theo her hand. “Friends for now?”

  He nodded solemnly. “Friends for now. Maybe even siblings, later,” he said as he shook her hand.

  That brought a warm smile to Lydia’s face. “Something to look forward to,” she said as she turned away.

  She doubted that she’d ever become good friends with her brother. Still, having more family around wouldn’t be a bad thing.

  14

  After Lydia swept the room, clearing off all the used wine glasses and empty platters of cheese and meats, she came back out of the kitchen to find that most of the guests had left. There was one couple still at the counter, discussing with Bill about what to serve with one of the red blends they’d bought, another couple who were staying at the B&B who sat in the corner near the fireplace and talked quietly, and Detective Avery, who still sat close to the door, staring out at the street.

  Lydia found her heart pounding as she thought about taking off her apron to go and talk with the man. Pensive was a good look on him. She could see how it could slide off into dark and brooding, but he hadn’t crossed that line. At least, not yet.

  Then she chided herself for acting out of character. He was a guest staying at her B&B. She’d never fraternized with any of her guests. And she wasn’t about to. She kept her apron on and made herself walk casually over to his table.

  “Good evening, Detective,” Lydia said as casually as she could.

  “Please, just Ellis tonight,” he said, giving her a soft smile.

  His eyes looked so deep. Lydia found herself drawn into them, sitting down at the table beside him without meaning to.

  “Did you enjoy the tasting tonight? Were there any wines that were your favorites?”

  Ellis gave her a smile that made wrinkles crinkle around his eyes, another good look on him.

  “I did,” he told her solemnly. “Bill gave me a taste of the new chardonnay, the one that isn’t bottled yet. I was so tempted to put my name down on the list for a case once it’s finished. But it would take me a year or more to go through so much wine. It doesn’t seem worth it.”

  Lydia nodded. “I’m the same way. If I want some wine, I can always go just down the street and get an extraordinarily good glass of it. I don’t need to keep any here.”

  “That being said, Bill was very persuasive about the very fine red blend he’s serving, offering a discount on a half case,” Ellis said.

  “That is tempting,” Lydia said sincerely. “Bill must have liked you. Blue Pond doesn’t usually do half cases.”

  “I’m going to think about it,” Ellis said. “It’s still a lot of wine to drink all by myself.”

  Lydia made herself sit back a little in her chair so that she wouldn’t automatically offer to drive up to Yakima and drink some of the wine with him.

  “How is the case going?” she asked. Then she held her hands up. “I know you can’t really tell me any details.”

  “Then you know I can’t really tell you how it’s going,” Ellis said. “Though I suspect that most people in town already have a pretty good idea of the exact status of where we stand. Particularly part of your staff here, Misty Martìnez?”

  Lydia couldn’t help but snort. “It’s a small town,” she said, spreading her hands wide. “And Misty has a large extended family.”

  “I’ve met the type before,” Ellis said dryly. “So we’re actually being more open with this case than we usually would be.”

  “That’s just to get people to stop bugging you for information, isn’t it?” Lydia said. At Ellis’s look, she asked, “What?”

  “Small towns,” he said, shaking his head. “I grew up in George, north and east of here.”

  “They have the huge cherry pie every year, don’t they?” Lydia asked. “At the fourth of July?”

  Ellis looked surprised. “Not many people know about that.”

  Lydia shrugged. “I run a B&B. I’m always looking for activities to tell tourists about. Local things that they can go to.”

  “That makes sense,” Ellis said, nodding. “So what do you want to know about the case?”

  “Am I that transparent?” Lydia said, teasing.

  “It’s a small town,” Ellis said.

  “You don’t really believe that Alice McGowen is capable of killing anyone, do you?” Lydia had to ask. “She isn’t capable of such a thing.”

  “Why do you say that?” Ellis asked, much more formal than he had been.

  Lydia watched a veneer of “police dete
ctive” come down over Ellis’s formerly deep (and, okay, dreamy) eyes. He was still Ellis Avery—the change was subtle. It was as if he’d just shifted slightly to the left, his entire persona no longer open and carefree.

  Part of her wanted to apologize for taking him back into that mode. But the rest of her needed to speak her piece.

  “Alice isn’t organized enough to have planned something like that in advance,” Lydia said. “She’s much more spontaneous, not that meticulous.”

  Ellis nodded. “Yet, she was able to save up rotten eggs for a week, just so she could go and throw them at Schooner Thomas’s house.”

  “I bet if you ask carefully, you’ll find that she didn’t actually have a reason for saving up the eggs, not until she thought to throw them that night,” Lydia countered.

  Ellis gave nothing away. “And what if the killing was spontaneous? A crime of passion, and not planned?”

  “It still wasn’t Alice,” Lydia insisted. “Yes, she’s strong enough to have done it, from what I understand. But she knows what’s right and what’s wrong, and she knows killing is just wrong.”

  “But she helps her parents out at their farm all the time,” Ellis said. “Kills chickens. Looks forward to fresh lard from the hogs they’ll butcher this fall.”

  Lydia sighed. “I know all that. But she just wouldn’t have done it.”

  Ellis gave her a bemused smile. “That’s what people say about killers all the time.” Then he grew more serious. “Who would have done it? If you’re so certain Alice didn’t?”

  “I don’t know,” Lydia said honestly. “I just can’t believe it would be anybody in town. Nobody liked Schooner much. But no one hated him enough to kill him.”

  “Yet, someone did,” Ellis pointed out.

  Before Lydia could respond, she heard Bill softly call her name.

  She stood up, but paused for a moment. “It wasn’t Alice. And it wasn’t Theo, my brother. I swear it wasn’t.”

  Ellis merely shrugged. “I’m going to have to go where the evidence leads me.”