twenty-three

A family knocked down pins at the Wok and Bowl. I watched from the far side of the bowling alley, turning the cooling coffee mug in my hands. The AC was up higher than I liked, and I shivered in my tank top. Sitting in the red faux-leather booth, I pulled my museum hoodie from my messenger bag.

I glanced at my watch for the third time, comparing it to the ’50s-style diner clock above the alleys. My watch wasn’t wrong. Mason was late. Only by fifteen minutes, but it wasn’t like him. When it came to punctuality, the military had left an impression on Mason.

He strode into the bowling alley five minutes later and looked around. He wore his usual jeans and tight T-shirt stretched across his broad chest. Catching my eye, he waved and jogged down the steps to my booth, smiling.

He kissed me on the cheek, slid into the seat across from me, and raked his hand through his blond mane. “Sorry, Maddie. I was at the school with Jordan and his mother. We’re trying to enroll him, but the soonest they can take him is after the December break.”

And suddenly I felt I was cheating with a married man. That wasn’t me. It never would be. I would never be the other woman, the one who broke up a family. “What’s Jordan going to do in the meantime?” I asked, stalling.

“Anabelle’s going to homeschool him as best she can to make sure he’s caught up when he starts.”

A waitress, poodle skirt swirling, appeared at our table.

“I’d like a cup of coffee, please,” he said.

She left, and he eased back in his seat. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.” He smiled, his blue eyes crinkling.

“You’ve been busy,” I hedged, pushing my hair out of my face. I’d never expected this conversation, and felt like I was tiptoeing barefoot through broken glass.

“So have you.” Reaching across the table, he took my hand. “How’s the haunted house going?”

“I have to take back the grape press. They say it’s too haunted.” Just say it, Maddie. Just say it!

He grinned. “Too haunted? What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure. Mason, I think we should take a break.”

He withdrew his hand, his expression stilling. “A break?”

“You’re dealing with a lot right now, and your ex-girlfriend is living with you.” My throat tightened. This was the right decision. But I was having a hard time breathing.

“She’s not staying with me forever,” he said. “Just until she can get back on her feet.”

“Anabelle wasn’t able to find a job after her husband died and ended up on the street. I imagine it will take a little time for her to find one here.”

“Sure, maybe a few months. It’s been hard for her. She was a stay-at-home mom.”

A few months! I took a slow, steadying breath. “I can’t even imagine how hard it’s been for her. She’s lucky to have you.”

“If this is about the last week—”

“It is, and it isn’t. You’ve left me in limbo.”

He began to speak, and I held up my hand.

“I get it,” I said. “And it’s not all your fault. I could have tried harder to track you down. And the situation would have thrown anyone for a loop. I know you’re doing your best to make things right. But I haven’t handled the ambiguity well, and I don’t think I’m going to start handling it well any time soon. For both our sakes, I need to step away. That will give you and Anabelle time to figure things out, and I won’t be trapped in relationship purgatory.”

His eyes darkened. “Is that how you feel? Trapped?”

“No,” I said quickly. “I didn’t mean it like that. But do you really feel like things are the same between us?”

The waitress brought his coffee and winked. “Here you go, sir.” She swished away.

Mason looked after her, a pulse beating in his jaw. “You’re right.” He cleared his throat. “This situation isn’t fair to you.”

“It’s not about fair, it’s about what’s right for everyone.” I swallowed. “If you need anything, I’ll always be there. I wasn’t lying when I said—”

“I know. I meant it too. I still do.” He rose and laid some bills on the table, then bent to kiss my forehead. “I’ll see you around, Maddie.”

Heart breaking, I gripped my coffee mug and drew ragged breaths. It had been the right thing to do.

Hadn’t it?

On shaky legs, I walked to my truck in the Wok and Bowl parking lot. The afternoon sun radiated off the macadam. Sweat prickled my back and I peeled off the hoodie. I opened the door, letting the heat escape. Leaning against its hot metal side, I blinked back tears.

I had done the right thing.

Mason might be fine with living with his ex, juggling sudden fatherhood, and dating me. I wasn’t.

I didn’t know if that made me a bad or a weak person, but I hadn’t liked myself much last week—the neediness, the panic, the insecurity. Months or more of some sort of half-relationship with Mason would send me around the bend. I needed to find my footing again. And Mason needed to deal with his family without another woman in the mix.

Once my breathing evened out, I stepped into the truck and drove into downtown. The shops were busy, pedestrians hurrying down the brick sidewalks. A young man in black slouched toward me. Leo.

I pulled into a free spot on the side of the street and tapped the horn. Leo looked up and jogged to my truck.

I leaned out the window. “What’s up?” My voice was strained, and I forced a smile.

He didn’t seem to notice, lifting one shoulder, letting it drop. His black hair was lank, his face pale. “Just walking. Where’re you off to?”

“The haunted house. I need to pick up that grape press and turn the exhibit back into the invisible haunted grape press.”

He shook his head. “When are they going to make up their minds?”

“Never, is my guess.”

“Need some help?”

“Sure.” I leaned across the seat and unlocked the passenger door.

He slid inside and buckled up. “You got the dolly?”

“In the back.”

“Cool.” His lower jaw went sideways, twisting his mouth.

I drove on, focusing on the road. A pink Cadillac cut in front of me and braked, drifting into the gas station.

“I’ve been taking a web design class at the JC,” Leo said.

“Oh?”

“We need to do a shopping cart project for the class. You know, online sales? I was thinking maybe I could work on the museum website?”

It was an answer to my frugal capitalist prayers. “Why not?”

We drove through town, beneath the welcome arch, past the Wine and Visitors Bureau, and into the vineyards.

Leo rolled down his window. “Ever think of getting air conditioning?”

“In this old truck? It would ruin the charm.”

A truck full of oranges bounced past us.

“Do you attend the junior college Jocelyn worked at?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“Did you see her around much?”

“I’m not in the viticulture program.”

It wasn’t really an answer, but I let it lie and turned at the massive gates to CW Vineyards. We bumped down the shaded gravel drive and pulled in front of the tasting room/haunted house. A few cars parked there. A sandwich-board proclaimed, Yes, we’re open for tasting!

I frowned. “Chuck planned to keep the tasting room running when the haunted house wasn’t operating. I don’t know where they’ve moved our exhibit. Let me go inside and see where everything’s at before we drag the dolly out.”

I trotted up the porch steps and into the tasting room. The hanging divider had vanished along with the Haunted San Benedetto exhibit. Couples stood at the tall round tables, drinking wine and sampling cheese. Others lined up at the cash register.

Elthia worked behind the tasting bar, filling a box with bottles of wine.

I waved to her, and her eyes narrowed.

“Hi,” I said. “I just came to pick up the grape press.”

“Sure you are.” Her mouth twisted in disbelief.

“Hey, I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Part-time.” She handed a customer the box. “And I don’t know anything about the press. You’ll have to ask Chuck.”

“Where is he?”

“Barn.”

Nodding, I strode out of the tasting room and across the yard. The barn doors were open, but I hesitated outside.

“Can I help you?” Chuck asked from behind me.

I jumped a little and turned.

He stroked his beard, grinning. “Sorry, did I startle you?”

He seemed to make it a habit.

“Ladies Aid wanted me to remove the grape press and replace it with my invisible grape press exhibit,” I said.

He chuckled. “Right. I heard there was a commotion the other night.”

“What sort of commotion?”

“Some type of mass hysteria. One woman started sobbing when she got near the press on the first night, said she was a psychic or something. People heard about it, and now everyone’s imagining stuff. Someone actually fainted last night.”

“Fainted? Were they hurt?”

“No, the woman’s fine. I think she got a rise out of the attention. Anyway, all of your things are in the storage room. You’ll find it unlocked, behind the tables in the tasting area, beneath the loft.”

And beneath all those wine barrels. Great.

“Will you be able to manage on your own?” he asked.

“Leo’s with me, and we’ve got a dolly.” I walked back to the truck and collected both.

Leo carried the dolly into the tasting area and wheeled it to the storage room door.

I opened it and followed him inside. The room was cool and dim and I fumbled for a light, switched it on. Its bulb flickered, clicking. The grape press stood beside stacks of CW Vineyards boxes.

Leo’s lip curled. “That stuff is no better than table wine.”

I raised a brow. Leo hadn’t hit drinking age yet.

“That’s just what I heard,” he said hastily.

“Sure it was. And don’t be a snob. Table wine has its place.” I switched the haunted grape press sign for the invisible haunted grape press sign.

The air in the closet congealed, cold and cloying. Gooseflesh prickled my skin.

I grasped the grape press, my grip damp, and heaved. The press shifted an inch. Had it always been this heavy? A shadow crawled across it. I blinked and it vanished. I stared hard at the press. It was too easy to imagine splatters of blood on its decaying wood.

Leo put his back into it, but the grape press resisted, squeaking, crawling, edging across the floor. I panted. The air seemed thick, oppressive, and I gulped.

My now ex-boyfriend wouldn’t have had any problem lifting the press, and cold silence slithered inside my heart. What had I done? I’d never find someone like Mason again. I knew girls who picked up new boyfriends within weeks of discarding the old ones. I wasn’t one of those girls.

A puff of mist appeared before Leo’s mouth. “This place is a freezer,” he grunted.

“I know. They must be keeping it cool for the wine.”

“Wine’s supposed to be cellar temperature. Not refrigerated.”

I nodded. I’d lost Mason. For good. My chest ached. My movements were clumsy, useless.

We tipped the press at an angle, shuffling it into place.

Leo grasped the dolly handles and his shoulders slumped. He blinked rapidly, as if trying to repress some emotion.

Sadness.

I’d felt it every time I’d gotten near the grape press. Could the vintage press be somehow triggering it?

I shook my head. No, my first instinct had been right. I was attributing powers to the object because others claimed they’d experienced something dark.

Chuck stuck his head in the storage room. “You two doing okay in there?”

“Got it.” Leo grunted.

“Careful with that curse now,” Chuck said.

“It’s not cursed.” I shook my head to clear it. The fluorescent light flickered in the ceiling. “It’s the key to a murder mystery.”

“Oh?” Chuck leaned against the door frame, blocking our exit.

Scalp prickling, I shifted. I wasn’t scared of Chuck, not with Leo beside me and a tasting room full of wine drinkers outside the door. So why was my skin crawling? “Two burned bodies were found in a cottage in 1922—Alcina, daughter of a vintner, and Luigi, one of the workers. Everyone thought Luigi killed Alcina because she’d turned him down. Male and female blood was found on this grape press—”

“Male and female?” Chuck asked.

“But the grape press wasn’t burnt.” The storage room was airless and I struggled for breath. “It wasn’t inside the cottage when the building was set on fire. Photos from the crime scene prove this. So if a man and woman were shot beside the grape press, how did their bodies end up inside a burned-out cottage?”

“I don’t know,” Chuck said. “How?”

Leo angled the dolly back and tested the press’s stability. He lowered it to the ground and wiped his brow, his pale forehead beaded with sweat.

“The killer gave himself away during the cover-up.” I raised my voice enough to carry into the tasting room. “And I think it might have been Alcina’s father. I think her father wanted her to marry someone else, a Harvard man, not a lowly worker in his vineyards. But you can’t force something that’s not meant to be, and the Harvard guy wasn’t with the program. He married someone else a week after Alcina’s murder. Maybe Alcina had been jilted and found comfort with Luigi. Or maybe she had no intention of marrying the man from Harvard either. After her death, her father was wracked with guilt, so much so that he ended up in a sanatorium.”

“He went crazy?” Leo asked, his voice thin.

“And in his journal, after the murders, he wrote that it was his fault. Everyone assumed he felt guilty because he hadn’t been able to protect his daughter. But what if it really was his fault? What if he killed them both? He might not have meant to kill Alcina. Maybe she just got in the way. By all accounts he was devastated by her death.”

A tightness I hadn’t known I’d been carrying released. I wobbled, light.

“It’s a good story,” Chuck said. “Good luck proving it.”

Leo straightened, shoulders back.

I smiled, a thin line. “It’s probably not possible after all these years.” But I did know a certain detective with a fondness for cold case files.

Together, Leo and I got the press into the back of my pickup, and we drove to the museum. We hauled it inside beneath the watchful gaze of GD and set it in the center of the main room.

GD sneezed and curled up on the rocking chair, closing his eyes. No hissing, no growling, no bristling fur. Had figuring out the crime been enough to banish whatever was hanging on to the press?

“Do you really think your story about the murder is true?” Leo asked.

“Murders, plural. I may not have all the details, but I think I’m pretty close.”

“That Chuck guy is right. It will be tough to prove.”

“Maybe.”

Leo left. Through the window blinds, I watched him slouch down the street. I drew my cell phone from my bag, made a call.

“Hello?”

I took a deep breath. “I think someone’s going to try and kill me again. Tonight.”