Lance reached for a container of heavy cream and poured a generous splash into his cup of French press. “Carlos, you are a godsend, my friend. Thank you for this.”
Carlos smiled in acknowledgment. “I thought Doug, Kerry, and Thomas might be in need of some sustenance while they investigate.” He arranged a tray of fresh fruit, berries, slices of sourdough, and honey butter, along with French press, cream, and sparkling water. “It sounds like they’ll be in and out for most of the day.”
“That reminds me, I forgot to ask you earlier,” I said to Lance. “What do you want to do about tonight’s performance?”
“The show must go on, darling. There’s no question. I’ve already called Jimmy’s understudy. He landed late last night and is ready to step in. The cast is meeting me here in an hour for a quick dress rehearsal. People have paid for a show, and a show is what they will get.”
I expected that would be his response.
“Of course, we’ll hold a moment of silence and reflection for Jimmy and cooperate with the police.” Lance stirred his coffee and pondered for a minute. “It’s a shame that Jimmy’s understudy was stuck in Mexico yesterday. Otherwise, it would have been quite Shakespearean to have the starlet waiting in the wings to bump off the lead.”
“What did you think of Sophie’s explanation?” I asked Lance, plucking a red grape from the bunch and popping it in my mouth. “You mentioned being concerned about the weird accidents on set. Do you think that there’s a chance she’s right? Could one of the members of the Fair Verona Players—cast or crew—been trying to kill Jimmy and finally succeeded last night?”
“Failed attempts?” Carlos looked at me and then Lance for clarification.
“Sophie is convinced that someone was trying to kill Jimmy,” I said, grabbing more grapes. The sweet, sugary, juicy bites were like a little hit of energy. “She thinks that the accidents during rehearsals weren’t accidents at all.”
“Is this true?” Carlos whisked whipping cream with vanilla bean paste and fine sugar.
“I’m afraid so.” Lance plunged a stir stick into his coffee and swirled in the cream until it turned a light shade of toffee. “Although she’s not correct about not taking the incidents seriously. We filed reports for each accident, and I have been watching the stage like the red-tailed hawks that frequent the vineyard. It’s most distressing to have anything go awry and a surefire way to kill any creative energy. The irony is that Sophie never came to me. If she was so concerned about Jimmy’s safety and well-being, wouldn’t it make logical sense that she inform me?”
“Maybe she was worried that you would think she was overreacting,” I suggested.
“Perhaps. Or could it be that she’s so lovesick that it made her sick?” Lance raised an eyebrow. “Sophie’s reaction to Jimmy’s death has me questioning its authenticity. I wonder if she’s picked up a trick or two watching actors run lines. That felt too on the nose for me. It felt like a performance, and not a particularly great one, I might add.”
“I had that sense, too. Part of me believes her, but I don’t think we got the entire story.” I reached for another grape. “How well do you know Ed? If Sophie was telling the truth about seeing him leaving the tasting room last night, do you think there’s a possibility he could have done it?”
“Anything is possible at this stage, isn’t it?” Lance blew on his coffee before taking a timid sip. “It’s no secret that Ed was not a fan of Jimmy’s. You witnessed that firsthand yesterday, but Ed is a professional. I can’t fathom why he would put his career in jeopardy, especially because he and I had a chat about making changes. He was aware of my intention to replace Jimmy. Why kill him?”
“Maybe he didn’t plan to,” Carlos suggested. The muscles in his arms flexed as he whipped the cream. Carlos was old-school when it came to method. If given the chance, he would always opt to use his hands over modern equipment. When he was running a kitchen with a huge rotating staff on the Amour of the Seas and serving multiple courses to hundreds of guests, that wasn’t possible. Since being in Ashland, he embraced cooking slowly, juicing lemons and kneading pizza dough with his hands. It was the same approach he used in the vineyard.
He caught me staring at him and shot me a flirty grin as he dipped his pinkie into the fluffy whipped cream and licked it off his finger. “Could they have gotten in a fight that went too far?”
Lance and I nodded in unison.
Carlos added the whipped cream to his breakfast spread and turned on a calming classical playlist.
“I considered that,” Lance replied first. “A corkscrew as a murder weapon does have a certain Hamlet-esque ring to it.”
I shuddered.
“Sorry.” Lance grimaced.
“It’s okay.” I buttered a slice of sourdough. “What we need to learn from the Professor is the actual time of death. Then maybe we can try to place where everyone was when Jimmy was killed and start ruling out suspects instead of constantly adding more.”
“Excellent point,” Lance agreed. “I’m also quite curious about the supposed footage that Sophie recorded last night. It’s probably a long shot, but there’s an outside chance that she could have caught something while filming.”
“Filming?” Carlos looked at me for clarification.
I filled him on what Sophie had shared.
“That reminds me of something,” Carlos said with a slight gasp. Unlike Lance, he had no propensity toward exaggeration. “I saw him, too.”
“You saw Ed?” Lance asked. He slathered honey butter on two slices of bread, filled them with berries, and smashed them together to make a sandwich.
“Sí. Sí.” Carlos nodded like he was replaying the scene in his mind. “I had come around on the deck with empty trays. I didn’t want to disturb the cast, because I knew you were using the main tasting room entrance for them to go upstairs to change.” He motioned in that direction. “I almost missed him, but I caught a flash of someone running toward the vineyard. It took me a minute to process what I was seeing. At first, I thought maybe it was an eager fan trying to sneak onto the deck to get an autograph, but then I realized it was Ed. I recognized his crew shirt and his headlamp.
“When was this?” Lance set his coffee on the island and paced from the door to the stove. “Because Ed shouldn’t have been anywhere near here. He was supposed to be in the wings for the entire show, and then postshow, he should have been going through his closing checklist.”
Carlos shrugged. “I don’t remember exactly. I came up to the house to check on the kitchen and get trays to make carting everything back inside easier. It couldn’t have been long after the play was done. Maybe ten or fifteen minutes. Julieta and I were chatting with Helen and Doug and enjoying the lively atmosphere.” He paused and turned to me. “You got wrapped up in a conversation with your mom. It was not long after that. People had begun to disperse, but most of the cast hadn’t come back outside yet.”
“This changes everything,” Lance said, rubbing his hands together like he was trying to warm them up. “What was Ed doing on the deck and running through the vines? That sounds very nefarious.”
“Was he running toward the vines?” I asked.
Carlos handed Lance a napkin. “Sí, I came along the path and took the side stairs to the deck so I could enter the tasting room through the sliding doors. I noticed movement and looked up to see him running away.”
“So it definitely wasn’t a fan hoping for an autograph.” I took a bite of my bread. The tangy sourdough balanced beautifully with the creamy honey.
“No, no.” Carlos shook his head. “I don’t think I was explaining myself well. That was just the first thing that came to my mind, but I’m sure it was Ed. He was tall, bulky, wearing a crew shirt and a headlamp. He was also carrying boxes.”
“That’s Ed,” Lance confirmed, dabbing his chin with the napkin as he went in for another bite of his berry creation.
“This is my point,” I said through a mouthful of bread and butter. “Five minutes ago, we were sure that Sophie was the killer, now Ed.”
“You’re right. We need a more exact window for the time of death from the police,” Lance said.
At that moment, Thomas came into the kitchen. He was dressed for duty in his blue uniform, shorts, and hiking boots. No matter the weather, Thomas wore shorts. Even in the dead of winter when the plaza was coated in layers of snow and ice, Thomas could be spotted walking his beat in his signature shorts with running tights.
I caught a glimpse of Kerry and the Professor escorting Sophie out of the tasting room. They flanked her on either side, but I couldn’t tell if her hands were cuffed.
“What’s going on?” I asked, peering around Thomas to try and get a better look. “Are you arresting Sophie?”
Thomas ran his hands through his hair, which he had grown out. It fell in loose waves over his eye. “Geez, Jules, can’t a guy beg you for a cup of coffee before you launch into it?”
“Sorry.” I gave him a sheepish smile and poured him a cup of French press.
“Manners, darling, manners.” Lance waved a scolding finger at me.
“Lance, you have no room to speak.” Thomas raised his mug in a toast. “This is your influence.”
“Moi?” Lance patted his chest. “Never.”
Thomas generously buttered a slice of bread. “Thanks for the snacks, Carlos. At least there’s one adult in the room.”
“Hey.” Lance’s mouth hung open. “We’re only trying to help you solve your case. You should be thanking us.”
“The Professor actually tasked me with giving you an update.” Thomas took a huge bite of the sourdough and glanced at the tasting room to make sure everyone was gone. “We are not making any formal arrests at this point, but the Professor and Kerry are taking Sophie to the station for further evaluation.”
“Evaluation?” I blurted out.
He lowered his voice. “They want to do a well-check before they release her. The Professor has some concerns about her stability in the short term. She’s taken the death hard, and he doesn’t want to send her off on her own without resources and support.”
That didn’t sound like they thought she was a suspect, more like they were worried about her mental health. The Professor’s perspective on detective work had always focused on the community. He saw himself as a connector and made it his mission to ensure that he disseminated information about resources to anyone and everyone who needed it. Sometimes that meant giving tourists directions and restaurant recommendations, and sometimes it meant delivering food and supplies to the unhoused, doing well-checks on seniors living alone, and hosting bike safety workshops at the elementary school.
“Is there a time of death?” Lance asked.
“Not yet.” Thomas savored the buttery bread. “This is delicious, by the way. Is that honey in the butter?”
“Honey grown here at the vineyard,” Carlos replied with a hint of pride. He had partnered with the neighboring farm to raise honeybees. His hive had expanded, which was great for pollinating the grapes, and one large benefit was that we were able to reap the rewards of the harvest with jars of organic honey, free of additives and infused with the floral scents of our growing region. He had become an advocate for pollinator populations, which were essential for the health of the vines. Often in the evenings when he and Ramiro and I shared quinoa bowls with sweet potatoes, chickpeas, and grilled veggies drizzled with Uva honey, he would talk about how the bees were helping him become more attuned to the rhythms and cycles of nature.
“It’s really good,” Thomas said through a mouthful.
“You should tell him about Ed,” Lance said to Carlos.
Carlos proceeded to relay what he had seen last night, then Lance interjected and gave Thomas a word-for-word recap of my conversation with Sophie.
Thomas listened but didn’t take notes on his iPad. Instead, he enjoyed the bread and coffee. I wasn’t sure if his lack of notetaking was because we were sharing information he already knew or if it was because the police had a suspect in mind and were getting ready to make an arrest.
Once Lance had finished, Thomas brushed his hands on his navy shorts. “Thanks for the intel and for the snack and coffee.”
“Is that it?” Lance scoffed. “You’re going to leave us with nothing?”
“Not nothing. A little patience, please.” He clicked on his iPad and motioned for us to come closer. “Come take a look at this.”
We gathered around the counter. Thomas played a shaky video that had clearly been shot on a phone.
“Is this Sophie’s footage?” I asked.
“Yep. Just wait for a minute, pay attention to the left side of the stage.” Thomas tapped the iPad with his finger.
We watched with rapt attention. Clearly, Sophie was not a professional videographer, but she had zoomed her phone onto the side of the stage where Bertie and Olive were huddled together with handheld flashlights. Bertie was holding what I presumed to be the script, scanning it as Jimmy and the other actors belted out their lines for the audience. Olive stood ready with a small sewing kit. It looked like she was poised to spring into action if the cast happened to have any costume fails.
The footage was grainy from being zoomed in and from shooting in the dark, but both women were easily identifiable.
“This part,” Thomas said, tapping the screen again to point out where we should be looking.
In the video Jimmy took his final bow as the audience erupted with applause.
I hadn’t noticed it last night, but Jimmy jumped off the stage and quickly vanished in the darkness.
My eyes drifted back to Olive and Bertie as Thomas touched the top of the screen again. “Right, here, see?”
Sure enough, Olive nudged Bertie, and both women exited the stage and followed Jimmy.
Lance threw his hand over his mouth and gasped. “Well, well, this changes everything, doesn’t it?”
Thomas’s lips pursed into a thin line. “I’m not sure I’d go that far, but I will say that this footage only expands our suspect list. The Professor asked me to share it with you, and now I’m due to have a conversation with Olive and Bertie. In the interim, we’d appreciate you keeping a close eye out. Report anything and everything that comes up.”
Lance saluted. “Consider it done.”
Thomas turned off his iPad and took an apple on his way out the door.
New questions pounded my head. Who was telling the truth and who was lying? Sophie claimed that Bertie cornered her after the show. Was she attempting to establish an alibi? And if Bertie and Sophie weren’t together, what were Bertie and Olive doing when Jimmy had been killed, and why were they following him?