Aged for acrimony, p.13
Aged for Acrimony, page 13
Even as she scooped up the last, delicious mouthful of the risotto, Olivia felt her stomach knot with tension.
She had one day to solve this. One short day. If she hadn’t found the killer and cleared her name by the time the show closed tomorrow, she never would, and she’d end up in a world of trouble.
Imagine if she had to accept James’s offer after all, Olivia thought, with a thrill of fear. What if selling out to him was the only way she could still cling to her hopes and dreams of a career in wine?
A moment later, she was appalled with herself for being so defeatist. How could she entertain such a thought? She could never abandon her ideals. There would be no need to, Olivia told herself firmly. Tomorrow, no matter what it took, she was going to find the killer and clear her name.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Early the next morning, Olivia headed purposefully out of the hotel and walked down the cobbled lane. She’d had a troubled night and felt sleep-deprived, but even so she was determined to tackle the day with everything she had.
The cold, gusty morning felt inhospitable and threatening. Olivia wished for a ray of sunshine to make her feel better, but the dawn was blanketed by clouds and she wrapped her jacket around her tightly, shivering as she strode.
Nearing the hall, she was encouraged to see that lights were on. There was activity inside. Fortunately, even at this early hour, there was an attendant at the main entrance. The young man was perched on a bar stool, eating a cornetto and drinking a massive cappuccino. Olivia suspected that under Cadenza’s rule, neither of these activities would have been allowed.
“Buon giorno,” she greeted him. “Do you know if the show is going ahead today?”
The attendant shook his head. “So many people have been asking. At this stage, we think probably not. The police are inside at this moment, with the assistant organizer and the admin team. They might take many more hours to comb the scene.”
Olivia’s shoulders slumped. All her plans crumbled around her as she stared morosely inside. Perhaps she could put plan B into action, and hover near the main entrance. Other exhibitors might come by to see if the show would go ahead, and that way she could at least question a few people.
But in apologetic tones, the attendant said, “Please can you keep the doorway clear, signora. The police have requested it.”
Turning away, Olivia trudged back up the paved path, her stomach churning. Her troubled night and frantic plans had all been for nothing, and she wasn’t even going to be allowed to stand nearby.
As she headed onto the sidewalk, she heard a faint cry from behind her.
“Signora! Signora!”
Olivia spun around. The attendant was waving frantically to her. She rushed back, breathless with expectation.
“We have just heard good news. The police say the show can go ahead. We will start an hour later in order that people can prepare. So the doors will open at ten a.m.”
“Oh, thank you,” Olivia said, feeling so relieved she could have hugged him.
They now had an entire day to clear her name and to find out what had really happened to the unlikable Cadenza Cachero.
*
Just a few minutes after Olivia had called Charlotte with the good news, she was relieved to see her friend rushing toward the show entrance.
“I was already up and dressed,” she said breathlessly. “As I left the hotel I decided to bring this along for you.” She passed a carrier bag to Olivia.
Opening the bag, Olivia found a smart, navy fedora.
“I bought it at the kiosk near the lobby. You need to look different from yesterday to prevent too many people from noticing you.” She winked at Olivia.
“That’s a very clever idea. Thank you,” Olivia said gratefully, as she pushed it onto her head.
“If it had been a real gift, I’d have chosen a prettier color. They had gorgeous pink and turquoise ones. But its role is to help you blend into the background,” Charlotte said wisely.
Streams of exhibitors were already arriving, all eager to get into the show and spruce up their stall ready for opening time. Swept along in the pushing, barging throng, Olivia felt sorry for the poor officials, vainly trying to hustle the crowd into single file so they could check tags.
“So, what do we do first?” Charlotte asked, ricocheting sideways as a large, stressed-looking man jostled her.
“First and foremost, we investigate the competition results.” Olivia swerved to avoid a woman hurrying the other way with a tray of snacks. “We need to know who entered, and who won. That will give us a starting point.”
“I still think we should explore that judge’s romantic life first, and then quiz the people who wanted your ice wine. But I agree, there’s no harm in looking into the competition results to start with,” Charlotte added hastily.
“I was entry number forty, so it was a big competition. Where would we find the results?” Olivia wondered.
“I guess in the admin offices.”
Olivia grimaced at the thought of going past the backstage area again, even though she knew that the scene must have been long since cleared.
“I reckon we just walk innocently in and ask to see the score sheets,” Charlotte advised. “While we’re looking, we can photograph them, and then we’ll have a complete record.”
“What if they pick up we’re American? Everyone suspects me.” Remembering the gossip she’d overhead yesterday, Olivia couldn’t help feeling as if there were a target painted on her forehead. She pushed the fedora more firmly onto her head.
“Turn your tag around so they can’t see your name, and speak to them in Italian. You’ll manage. Yes, you might have a slight foreign accent but it is an international show and I’m sure they won’t pick up where you’re from.”
Taking a deep breath, Olivia headed to the stage. Around her, the stalls were bustling with activity. She heard the thump of crates being set down and the clink of glassware, but didn’t dare to look in anyone’s direction in case they made eye contact with her and started shouting.
They climbed the stairs and headed backstage, to find that the police had set up a row of lights on metal stands. The backstage area was brilliantly lit and the shadowy gloom had been banished.
This time, Olivia headed all the way to the door at the far end of the backstage area. It was half open, and stepping through, she headed down another short corridor. At its end was a cramped office. Inside, two harassed-looking women were on the phone. A third phone was ringing nonstop.
“Yes, the show is on today. Thank you,” the first one said. She ended her call and grabbed the next one. “Yes, the show is on today. Thank you.”
She replaced the receiver, looking sick of her job. Quickly, before anyone else could ask the same question, Olivia stepped forward.
“Buon giorno. Are the competition results from yesterday available?” Olivia asked in her best Italian.
“On the wall.” The attendant gestured with her phone, which had started ringing again. She answered with an impatient sigh. “Yes, the show is on today. Thank you.”
Glad that this had gone seamlessly, Olivia stepped over to the wall, where printed pages were taped in place.
There were four categories, she saw. Best New Wine, Best Overall Wine, Best Low to Mid-Range Priced Wine, and Best High-End Wine.
With a sniff of outrage, Olivia wondered why she hadn’t been able to enter one, or both, of the first two categories. According to the description there seemed to have been no good reason at all. The horrible judge-organizer had been prejudiced. No wonder the other judges had been so angry.
Putting aside her personal gripe, Olivia focused on discreetly photographing the lists while she glanced through them. There were four gold, silver, and bronze winners, and eight Highly Commended ribbon earners in the list.
“Grazie,” she said, quickly heading out. Neither of the two women replied. They were too busy answering phones and saying, “The show is on today. Thank you.”
They headed out of the cramped, overly warm office.
“Now what do we do?” Charlotte asked.
That was a good point. Where should she start? Thinking logically, Olivia decided there was no reason for a winner to have murdered Cadenza. They would have been happy with their silver or gold award. So perhaps the first and most important job was to rule out the few people who had no discernible motive at all.
Olivia ran her gaze down the list. Helena from Montepulciano Cellars had won silver in the Best Overall Wine, and the unlikable Signor Rocco Sorrento had won gold in Best High-End Wine. She sighed, disappointed by Rocco’s gold. Personally, she’d found him obnoxious and would have been eager to investigate him further. Still, she had to let the evidence make the call.
“I think we need to speak to the other two judges,” Olivia said. “Alexander and Aldi would have spent the day with Cadenza. They would have seen all the confrontations and personal dynamics with the competitors. I’m sure they can give us a lead on where to start.”
But, as they descended the staircase and returned to the bustling exhibition hall, Olivia found herself walking toward a familiar face. For a change, it belonged to somebody that she was thrilled and delighted to see.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Happy tears prickled Olivia’s eyes as she hurried up to her tall, handsome boss, and hugged Marcello as hard as she could.
“Salve! I was looking for you!” he exclaimed, his arms wrapping tight around her. How wonderful it was to be with him again, in his calm, soothing presence and strong embrace.
“I’m so glad to see you,” she said. “I didn’t know if you would be here and didn’t see Castello di Verrazzano’s name on the exhibitor list.”
He released her reluctantly. Olivia saw Charlotte had discreetly withdrawn and was pretending to look at a nearby stall. Clearly, she thought that Olivia needed some alone time with him.
“Castello di Verrazzano is part of the Organic Winegrowers’ Alliance. We are sharing a stall at the north end of the hall with other fully organic wineries, to promote these products to other winemakers and to the end consumer,” Marcello explained.
“I hope it’s going well,” Olivia said.
“It is. But we heard yesterday about an even bigger success.” Marcello smiled. “Many people were commenting on the quality of the ice wine that this small, new vineyard produced. I am so proud of you.”
“Thank you.” Olivia was glowing with delight at the praise. At the same time, though, she wanted Marcello to know that her job at La Leggenda was still her biggest priority.
“Everything’s fine at the winery. Sales were good yesterday, particularly our white wines, and the bees are settling in well,” she reassured him.
Marcello nodded. “I received photos of the new hive yesterday from Gabriella.”
So that was why she’d been taking shots of the bees. Olivia was relieved that the restaurateur hadn’t had more sinister motives.
Marcello continued. “She was anxious for me to know that keeping the bees at La Leggenda had been her idea. And she was very surprised when I said you had already told me so.”
“It was a brilliant idea and I’m so glad she thought of it.” Olivia smiled, eager to credit her rival, especially when she’d wrongly suspected her of sabotage.
To her surprise, Marcello’s smile disappeared and he seemed troubled as he spoke. “Gabriella called again late last night to tell me something more serious. She said that a friend of hers had just shared the shocking news that you were involved in the show organizer’s death. We were told about that tragedy after we left the show, and today everyone has been speaking of it. I am horrified that some people suspect you, and I know it cannot be true.”
Olivia felt appalled. The well-connected Gabriella had been trying to throw her under the bus after all! At least she hadn’t changed her ways, she thought, frustrated.
Quickly, she filled in her boss on the real story.
“My wine couldn’t be included in the competition. Cadenza wouldn’t allow a new category, but that didn’t worry me, as it was selling so well. But I could see she was prejudiced against me, so I gave her a bottle of my wine as a gift, just before the results were announced. People saw me handing it to her. When that bottle was found smashed, they drew the wrong conclusions.”
Marcello nodded. His face hardened.
“It is bad luck that, once again, you have been caught up in a dire situation through no fault of your own. Regarding the competition, between you and me, this is not the first time I have heard about prejudice and irregular results.”
“Really?” Olivia asked. Was Marcello implying this might have provided a motive for Cadenza’s murder? Intrigued, she waited for him to continue.
“It is one of the reasons we stopped entering the competition under Cadenza’s management. Having won medals many times in the past, La Leggenda was suddenly not placed at all when she took over. When I mentioned this to other exhibitors, I was told of rumors.”
“Rumors?” Olivia asked curiously, fascinated by Marcello’s account.
He nodded. “The rumors were that having three judges was simply for show, and to attract paying entries. She could overrule any decision made and she had her favorites lined up before the competition began. Although I tried to confirm whether this was true, I was never able to do so. Therefore, I never spoke of it. It was just hearsay, as was the talk that in the past, money has changed hands to ensure a gold medal award. That, to me, was unspeakable.”
“Oh!” Olivia was stunned by this bombshell. The judging had been unfair. If it hadn’t been for Cadenza’s prejudice, she could have entered legitimately and perhaps even won a Highly Commended.
Even though she’d sold out all her wine, Olivia couldn’t help feeling angry that this nasty woman might have prevented her from earning an important accolade.
“It is one of the reasons we decided to stop exhibiting here,” Marcello admitted. “Though it reaches good markets, it became extremely expensive, and the sudden discrepancy in our judging results made me reluctant to invest the money.”
“The woman at the bottling shop also mentioned it had changed in the last few years,” Olivia said, and Marcello nodded solemnly.
Olivia felt so grateful that she’d bumped into him. His wise, knowledgeable presence was like a soothing balm. Marcello always had valuable insights.
She wished she could leave the festival with him, find a coffee shop, and have a good catch-up. They’d probably solve this crime within an hour if they put their heads together. But it wasn’t going to be possible. Marcello must be chaotically busy, and she couldn’t keep him any longer.
“Please don’t worry about me,” Olivia emphasized in a firm voice. “I’m going to make sure that by the end of today, the perpetrator is arrested.”
Marcello’s lips twitched. “I have the utmost confidence in you. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you to be careful,” he said, giving her the ghost of a wink.
Feeling on top of the world after this fortunate encounter, Olivia headed over to rejoin Charlotte. Marcello’s insights had provided so much food for thought and Olivia was thrilled that he’d given her a new direction to explore.
If the judging had been so blatantly prejudiced, there would have been other angry people, she realized. Other winemakers had invested far more in the show than she had. Perhaps they had been more disappointed, too. A low score would be a slap in the face, and could even be a costly disaster. Such a person could easily have lost control, confronted the judge, and in a wild moment, killed her.
Which of the winemakers had done that? She needed to find out, as soon as possible, by unlocking the secrets that the score sheets held.
“Did you get any interesting information from Marcello?” Charlotte asked hopefully as Olivia approached.
“Yes. He confirmed the judging was unfair and in fact, hinted that there had been corruption.”
“That’s appalling!” Charlotte declared in passionate tones.
“So, I think we need to start by looking at who didn’t win. We need to examine who came stone last, or whose scores dropped suddenly this year. Then we will find the people who could have been so angry that they took action.”
Charlotte nodded. “Brilliant idea. Let’s get out of the main thoroughfare and have a close look at these results.”
Heading to the side of the hall, they retreated into a quieter corner and peered down at the screen shots.
“Now this is useful! They’ve also listed the placings from the three previous years,” Charlotte said. “That means we can see if anyone mysteriously fell out of favor with the unpredictable head judge.”
Scanning through the lists and doing frantic mental arithmetic, Olivia realized she and Charlotte were practically breathing down each other’s neck. And then Charlotte announced, in tones of quiet satisfaction, “I’ve found someone.”
“Who? Who?” Olivia said excitedly.
“Sergio from Buonconvento Vineyards. Look at the Best Overall Wine category. Three years ago, gold. Two years ago, gold. Last year, silver. This year, nowhere.”
“That’s significant,” Olivia agreed, excitement surging inside her. “We need to go and speak to him. Perhaps it wasn’t due to the quality of the wine at all but rather due to personal issues with the judge. That could rightfully have made him angry.”
Still tucked away in their quiet corner, she looked up the location of his stall.
“I think we should approach him one at a time,” Olivia advised. “That will give us two chances, in case he’s defensive or clams up.”
Charlotte nodded in agreement. “That’s a wise idea. I’ll hang back.”
Olivia headed purposefully across the hall. She felt breathless with excitement that this crime might be solved while the day was still young. That would put a stop to the damaging rumors that she feared were eroding her reputation, minute by minute.
As she marched across the floor, keeping her head down so that all people would notice was her unremarkable hat, Olivia jumped as she heard a familiar voice from behind one of the stalls she passed.
