Once the police told us we were free to leave, Lance and I walked to the tasting room to find Carlos.
“Julieta, Kerry said you were here. How? Why?” His naturally tanned cheeks were etched with concern as he rushed to greet me with a kiss.
“It’s my fault.” Lance held up a hand in surrender. “I called her.”
Carlos scowled. “This could have been very dangerous, Lance.”
“Agreed.” Lance nodded solemnly. “I acted on a whim, not realizing the severity of the situation. I’ve already apologized to your lovely wife for putting her in harm’s way.”
I wasn’t sure I had been in much danger, other than potentially catching a case of the shivers.
“You know, I’m an adult woman, gentlemen.” I narrowed my eyes at them.
They laughed.
“Sí, this I know for sure,” Carlos said with a playful smile. “I would say this to anyone. There is no need to involve more people in the police stakeout.”
He raised a valid point.
“They said she has been stealing from you?” Carlos changed the subject, releasing his grasp on me and motioning to the collection of chairs in front of the stone fireplace. “Why don’t we sit for a minute?”
I shot him a look of gratitude. Even wearing my tennis shoes, my feet were aching from a long day.
“Yes.” Lance answered his question. “It appears that Olive has had quite the operation going. Although Doug seemed to hint just now that they’re not convinced that she killed Jimmy.”
“Is this true?” Carlos looked at me.
I nodded. “That’s what the Professor said.”
Lance folded one leg over the other. “Might I beg you for a glass of vino?”
“You’re a part owner in the vineyard.” I punched him in the arm. “You don’t have to ask.”
“It’s my meticulous manners. I can’t help myself.” He raised his eyebrows.
“Let me get it.” Carlos was already on his feet and halfway behind the bar. He poured a glass of merlot for Lance, delivered it, and in one fluid motion was back behind the bar again.
“Many thanks.” Lance tipped his head to Carlos.
“Then why did they need to arrest her here just because you figured out her relationship with Jimmy and caught her stealing costumes?” Carlos asked as he wiped the counter, which was already sparkling. I recognized the nervous habit. On the Amour of the Seas, he would clean whenever things got stressful. Out of all the coping mechanisms someone could have, I certainly didn’t mind his need to keep things neat and in order when faced with stress.
I had to resist the urge in this moment to pop into the kitchen and put together a platter of hand pies or frosted brownies to calm my own nerves.
“That is the question, isn’t it?” Lance asked.
“It is very odd,” Carlos agreed. He placed a rubber stopper in the bottle of merlot and then used a pump to vacuum out the air. This would slow the oxidation process and preserve the wine longer.
We spent the next hour or so relaxing and reviewing everything we knew about the case.
I glanced at the clock and realized that it was long past my bedtime.
“It’s getting late,” I said, suddenly feeling like I couldn’t keep my body upright much longer. I wasn’t sure if it was the adrenaline wearing off or the roller coaster of an emotional day, but nothing sounded better than my bed.
“Yes, I should let you both go.” Lance picked up my cue.
Carlos tossed the towel in the sink, turned off the lights, and locked the tasting room. The only light we had to guide us outside came from the solar lanterns lining the path. We started to part ways, but Lance pointed to the gravel drive, where headlights were coming in our direction.
“The police must have forgotten something,” Lance said.
So much for my cozy bed.
We waited for the lights to come closer and the person to pull in front of the tasting room. It was hard to see clearly in the dim light, but I didn’t recognize the car. It wasn’t the Professor’s, or Thomas and Kerry’s. Nor was it a squad car.
“It’s Tom,” Lance said. “What is he doing here at this hour?”
“Maybe news has traveled through town about Olive’s arrest,” Carlos suggested.
It was true that gossip spread quickly in our little hamlet, but I couldn’t imagine that many people were out this late, aside from the college bar crowd.
“Perhaps Olive called him?” Lance made his hands into circles and placed them over his eyes like binoculars to try to get a better look.
“You mean like her one phone call from jail?” I asked. “But then why would he come to the winery?”
“There’s one way to find out.” Lance approached Tom’s car.
Tom must have had no idea that we were standing nearby because as he stepped out of the car and spotted Lance, he let out a small scream, jumped backward, and dropped something on the ground. “Are you trying to scare me to death?” Tom yelled, waving a finger at Lance like he was scolding him. “What are you doing, sneaking up on me in the dark? What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same question. Especially given that I am a partial owner of the vineyard,” Lance countered. “I’m curious what brings you to our humble winery under the cloak of darkness.”
Tom glanced at his feet but didn’t respond.
What had he dropped?
Lance pounced before Tom had time to react.
“Well, well, well. What have we here?” Lance dangled something in his right hand. It caught the light of one of the solar lanterns, revealing a familiar key. “Jules, Carlos, I think you might want to come closer and have a look at this.”
Tom froze with one hand clutching the car door, like he was ready at any moment to make an escape.
“Is that the key to the wine cellar?” I asked with confusion. Ed had returned the key to me earlier.
“I do believe you’re correct, Juliet. Tom, do you care to enlighten us as to how you happen to be in possession of this?” Lance swung the key between his index finger and thumb, practically taunting Tom.
Tom sputtered and shot his eyes in every direction, as if trying to figure out if there was any other way out. There wasn’t. Not unless he got in his car and backed away.
“What are you doing with a key to the Uva wine cellar?” Lance asked.
Tom slowly put one leg into the driver’s seat, while maintaining eye contact with Lance. “I found it and wanted to make sure it was returned promptly.”
Lance glanced at his wrist. “At ten thirty at night? Exactly how did you intend to get inside the tasting room?”
Was he paying attention to Tom’s movements?
Not much got by Lance. He might come across as flippant at times, but that was part of his theater persona. I knew he had a steely interior and uncanny ability to read people’s emotions, which probably came from his years on the stage.
“I was going to slide it under the door. I wasn’t going to break in.” Tom inched the rest of his body closer to the car.
I could tell that he was planning to speed away the second he had a chance.
Carlos must have realized the same thing, because he began creeping toward the other side of the car. What was he going to do? Jump in the passenger seat?
“But Ed gave me the key back. How do you have it?” I asked, hoping to distract Tom.
“I took the key from Ed before he returned it and made a copy at the hardware store for you,” Tom replied in a patronizing tone. “You should be thanking me. I took it upon myself to do you a favor and make sure you had a backup key. You’re running such a loose operation.”
“We’re all adults here,” Lance said to Tom. “Don’t patronize us with obvious lies. We know the truth. You murdered Jimmy.”
Tom’s entire body flinched, like he’d been punched.
Lance didn’t stop. “We know about the trust, Tom. We know that you’ve squandered your aunt’s fortune and you’re deep in the red. We know that Jimmy found out and was going to announce your struggles to the world, wasn’t he? Or did he demand money from you? You had to kill to keep him quiet. How did it go down? Was it a battle, or did you lure him to the cellar and lie in wait to strike the deadly blow?”
“No.” Tom recoiled more, hunching his shoulders, and shrinking into himself. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, I think you do, so let me repeat my question. Why did you kill him?”
Carlos had made it around to the other side of the car without Tom noticing, but he didn’t stop at the passenger door—he kept moving toward the trunk. He wasn’t considering blocking Tom’s escape path with his body, was he? Because if he was, that plan was a solid no in my book. It wasn’t our responsibility to stop Tom, and I wasn’t about to let Carlos risk his life, even if it meant letting Tom go.
We could call Thomas or Kerry. They would be able to apprehend Tom before he made it back to the plaza.
“I can’t believe you were fooled by him. He was ruining the show. For an esteemed director, it’s juvenile that you tolerated his behavior. The Fair Verona Players is my ticket out of debt, and I wasn’t going to let some actor with a hugely inflated ego ruin that for me.”
“How would Jimmy’s ego impact your finances?” Lance asked.
I was glad he was keeping Tom talking. My phone was in my jacket pocket. I rubbed my hands together, pretending to be cold and then slowly put them into my pockets. Hopefully Tom would simply think I was trying to warm up. If I could maneuver my screen with my fingers there was a chance I could place an emergency call without him being any the wiser.
“You should know that better than anyone,” Tom said with disgust. “I can’t believe you allowed Jimmy to tank the company before we’d had a chance to bring in more investment dollars.”
“What are you talking about?” Lance caught Carlos’s eye.
Carlos stood behind the vehicle and appeared to be fumbling for his phone as well. I was grateful for the patch of stars above us, shedding hazy light on the roof of the car.
Odds were good that one of us would have luck.
“While you’ve been playing darling to the media and fawning over the cast, I’ve been doing what I was brought on to do—grow the company. Find bigger investors to build this into something lasting. Something that one day might dwarf OSF,” Tom lashed out. The rage in his voice was as thick as our Sunday morning pancake batter.
“That’s never been my plan,” Lance responded, with a casual confidence I didn’t feel. “The Fair Verona Players is a joyful project. It’s enhancing my creativity and adding additional value to the region, but no part of my vision includes growing to anywhere near the size of OSF.”
“It should have been,” Tom spat. “Do you realize how much money is in the Rogue Valley? I was about to make the Fair Verona Players a household name. I had big plans to expand—partnerships with other vineyards, brand deals, private wine labels, interest with companies in the Valley to do private parties and performances. But Jimmy’s ludicrous behavior was going to ruin that. He should have kept his mouth shut except for reading his lines.”
“Help me understand—how would you personally profit and be in a position to pay off your debts with this influx of investment capital?” Lance asked. “Funds would go into the company, yes?”
Tom didn’t reply.
“Ah, so you intended to pocket a large portion of said cash, I assume?” Lance was eviscerating Tom with every word. “Jimmy realized this, didn’t he? How much did he demand in exchange for his silence?”
Again, Tom had no retort.
He jumped into the car and slammed the door shut before Lance could stop him.
“Carlos, move!” I yelled. Tom had already killed once. I had no doubt that he would mow Carlos down if Carlos didn’t get out of the way.
Tom blared the horn.
Lance and I both startled and backed away.
Carlos held his position, placing both hands on the trunk as Tom turned the key in the engine.
What was he thinking? This wasn’t normal behavior for him.
“Carlos, please, move,” I pleaded. Tom wasn’t worth it.
“I’ve got this, mi querida.” He firmed his stance.
Tom revved the engine in a warning.
Carlos kept his stance.
I couldn’t believe this was happening.
“It’s not worth it, Carlos,” Lance shouted. “Let him go. He won’t get far.”
Tom clicked the car into reverse and rolled down the window. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I’m getting out of here one way or another. This is your chance to move.”
My knees buckled.
My heart thudded against my chest.
“Carlos, he’s not bluffing,” I yelled.
“No, I’m not,” Tom said, laying on the horn again. “This is it, move now, or I run you over.”
How had we ended up in this situation, and why was Carlos playing chicken with a killer?
He’d never had a hero complex before, and this didn’t seem like the best time to develop one.
With one last press of the horn, Tom began accelerating.
Carlos leapt out of the way at the last minute.
The tires squealed as Tom peeled out backward, spun the car around, and shot down the driveway, kicking up a trail of gravel and debris behind him.
I ran over to check on Carlos. “What were you thinking? You could have been killed.”
He cradled his right arm, which had taken the brunt of his fall. “I’m okay, mi querida. And I was buying time for that.” With his other hand he pointed to the bottom of the driveway where three police cars with flashing blue lights and wailing sirens had blocked the exit and surrounded Tom.
“Thank goodness.” Lance and I helped him to his feet.
Lance clapped one arm around each of us. “A job well done, team, if I do say so myself.”