The chianti case, p.1
The Chianti Case, page 1
The Chianti Case
The Vineyard Mysteries
H L Marsay
The Chianti Case
Copyright© 2025 H L Marsay
EPUB Edition
The Tule Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
First Publication by Tule Publishing 2025
Cover design by Patrick Knowles
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
AI was not used to create any part of this book and no part of this book may be used for generative training.
ISBN: 978-1-969218-56-9
Keep Up with your Favorite Authors and their New Releases
For the latest news from Tule Publishing authors, sign up for our newsletter here or check out our website at TulePublishing.com
Stay social! For new release updates, behind-the-scenes sneak peeks, and reader giveaways:
Like us on
Follow us on
Follow us on
See you online!
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Epigraph
Chianti Classico Wine
Characters
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Acknowledgements
The Vineyard Mysteries series
More Books by H L Marsay
About the Author
In vino veritas
Latin proverb – In wine, there is truth.
Chianti Classico Wine
Chianti Classico is a red wine from central Tuscany. It is principally made using the Sangiovese grape. Traditionally, it was sold in short, squat bottles, the lower half enclosed in a straw basket known as a fiasco.
The Chianti Classico Expo that Emma and her friends are attending is held in September every year. Usually, it takes place in Greve, a charming town between Florence and Siena, but for the purposes of this story, I relocated it to Florence.
The wine windows of Florence really do exist, and should you wish to visit this beautiful city, you can book a tour to take you around them all.
Characters
In Florence
Emma King – buyer for King’s Wines, Gloucestershire
Kiara ‘Kiki’ Patel – buyer for the Patel supermarket chain in India
Nico Lambert – buyer for Lambert Hotels, France
Paddy Brompton – head buyer at Fox Cavendish, St James, London
Gino Mazzotta – owner of a wine bar and an old flame of Kiara’s
Nero – Gino’s Labrador retriever
Antonio Mazzotta – a Chianti producer and Gino’s great-uncle
Monica – Antonio’s pig
Marina Scarano – waitress at Gino’s bar
Aldo Sorrentino – owner of a wine bar
Cesare Russo – an inspector with the Florence police
Judge Zingaretti – a local judge with political aspirations
Carlotta Grimaldi – vineyard owner
Sister Lucia – a nun at the Sisters of Mercy convent
Cerys Jones – a music student
At the Palazzo Puccini
Francesco Stella – impresario
Bettina Gentile – assistant to Francesco Stella
Tanya Sharma – Indian singer and Kiara’s ex-stepmother
Dev Gupta – Tanya’s manager
Based in India
Anil Patel – Kiara’s father
Rajesh Patel – Kiara’s oldest brother
Back in England
Edward King – owner of King’s Wines
Yvette King – his wife
Maddie King – their younger daughter
Chapter One
Emma King took a sip from her glass of perfectly chilled prosecco and gazed up in awe at the Duomo. It didn’t matter how many times she saw Florence’s famous cathedral, she was always amazed at how Brunelleschi could have created such a huge, yet perfect, domed roof. It was even more incredible when one considered he was working hundreds of years ago without any of today’s modern technology or equipment.
It was late in the morning in early September. The sun was shining brightly, and the piazza before her was teeming with people, as it probably had every afternoon over the centuries. However, now the medieval merchants and Renaissance artists, who would once have bustled about the place, had been replaced by backpacking students and foreign tour parties, all holding their phones aloft as they obediently trotted after guides brandishing each country’s flag on a pole above their heads. So far, Emma had spotted two Chinese, one German, and one American tour party. She worried that one of the Chinese tourists would get confused, follow the flag that didn’t belong to their group, and then end up on the wrong bus or in the wrong hotel. That’s exactly the sort of thing that would happen to her, but miraculously, so far, her journey had gone without a hitch.
She took another sip and settled back in her chair at one of the outside tables she’d managed to nab at the café directly opposite the exit of the Duomo. The piazza was lined with similar establishments. All had awnings and umbrellas providing some welcome shade for their customers, while smartly dressed Florentine waiters glided between the tables with trays of prosecco, Aperol spritz, and slices of pizza. They appeared unaffected by either the heat or the magnificent view in front of them. Sometimes, Emma had to pinch herself. She couldn’t believe how lucky she was that her work meant she travelled to such beautiful places.
Earlier in the year, she had taken on the role of head buyer for her family’s business. King’s Wines had been founded by her parents, Edward and Yvette, when Emma was just a baby. It was now one of the largest online wine retailers in the UK. Unfortunately, following a serious car accident earlier in the year, her father had lost his sense of taste and smell, and the task of choosing the wines had now fallen to Emma. It was a huge responsibility, and if she stopped to ponder this turn of events for too long, her heart would begin to race, and a feeling of panic would threaten to send her into headless chicken mode. Since her parents’ accident, she’d barely had a decent night’s sleep and often woke up in a cold sweat. Although her trip to Italy was work-related, she hoped getting away from the office would give her the chance to relax a little too.
Early that morning, she and her old friend Paddy Brompton, who was a buyer for one of London’s oldest wine merchants, had flown from London to Florence for the annual Chianti Classico Expo. Wine buyers gathered from all over the world to meet with the producers of Tuscany’s most famous wine and taste that year’s vintage before placing their orders. They had dropped their bags at the hotel, and Paddy had insisted they visit the Duomo, as he’d never climbed to the top. Emma had agreed, but she didn’t have much of a head for heights. After one look at the narrow, steep steps, she’d decided to leave him to be a tourist while she waited outside.
Closing her eyes, she tilted her face towards the warmth of the sun, then quickly remembered she should really apply some sunscreen. Unlike her French mother, Yvette, and her younger sister, Maddie, who both turned a gorgeous golden brown after just a couple of days in the sun, Emma only needed to step outside for a few minutes in the summer months, and her face turned as red as the tomatoes being served with slices of mozzarella at the next table.
She retrieved her large black leather handbag from the chair next to her and began rummaging through it, but no sunscreen was to be found. With a sigh, she resigned herself to the fact that she must have forgotten to bring it with her. But, looking on the positive side, she always forgot to pack something, and sunscreen could at least be picked up from a pharmacy. It could have been much worse. She could have left behind something important, like her passport or the folder containing the budget Maddie had carefully worked out for her. Her sister was in charge of the company accounts, and she was under just as much pressure as Emma.
A few months before their parents’ car crash, the company had taken out a large loan to finance a move into new, larger, and more modern premises. The strength of their father’s reputation as one of the most respected wine buyers in the country had been a huge part of the bank agreeing to the loan. Following the accident, they had to be informed that Edward King was no longer able to taste or smell anything, and there had been several tense meetings between the Kings, their accountants, and the bank. Fortunately, the two sisters had managed to persuade the bank that the business would be safe in their hands, and they had agreed not to call in the loan or increase the payments. At least for now.
The wines Emma had chosen earlier in the year during her trip to the vineyards of Bordeaux had been well received, but Maddie was still predicting that revenue could be down for the year. Their mother, who often hosted wine tasting events, was busy caring for their father, and despite the two sisters working seven days a week, t hey couldn’t cover all the tasks their parents usually took care of. To make matters worse, her father was currently confined to a wheelchair. The last operation to mend his broken hip had not been a success, and he would need more surgery.
Emma gave her head a brisk shake and blinked back the tears that were starting to well up. Thinking about her father being in pain or what the bank calling in the loan might mean for the business was likely to send her spiralling back into panic mode. There was no wonder she couldn’t sleep. She pushed all thoughts of accounts and banks and hospitals to one side and lowered the sunglasses that had been perched on top of her head, holding back her blonde hair. They were so large they covered most of her face and would have to protect her skin until she found a pharmacy.
As the bells in Giotto’s famous tower next to the cathedral began to strike noon, a shadow fell across her face. She raised her glasses and squinted. She was expecting to see Paddy, but instead, she found Nico Lambert looking down at her. Nico had been at college in Lausanne with her, and now he was the wine buyer for his family business too.
“Emma? I thought it was you hiding behind those huge sunglasses. The last time I saw you, you were chasing around Bordeaux, looking for a murderer. How are you?”
He bent down and kissed her on both cheeks. Emma could feel herself blush. Back in college she’d had a huge crush on him, and he was even more tall, dark, handsome, and charismatic than he’d been back then. Being reminded of her visit to France earlier that year didn’t help either. The important business of choosing the expensive Grand Crus had been further complicated when the owner of one of the châteaux had been killed.
“Hi, Nico. Nice to see you. I’m good, thanks, and hoping that this buying trip is less eventful than the last one. How about you?” She removed her bag from the chair next to her so he could sit down.
“I’m fine, just a little jetlagged,” he said, taking his seat. “I flew in from Argentina last night.”
Emma frowned. “Were you there to buy wine?” Her father usually visited South America in April, which was their autumn.
“No,” replied Nico. “My father is out there. He’s decided that Buenos Aires is the best location to open his first hotel outside of Europe.” He paused. “There was also some other family business I needed to discuss with him.”
He didn’t sound his usual confident self, and he looked a little pale beneath his tan. Although, like Emma, he worked for his family’s business, the Lambert chain of luxury hotels was in a different league to King’s Wines. She doubted Nico ever had to plead with and cajole bank managers, like she and Maddie did, but it did seem that something was bothering him.
“I was expecting you to be at the hotel,” he continued. “I saw Kiara there. She said you were booked in too.”
“When we arrived, it was too early to check in, so we dumped our bags and came straight here to see the Duomo.”
“We?”
“I came here with Paddy,” she explained, and right on cue, her travelling companion arrived at their table, dabbing his rather red face with his large white handkerchief.
“Ah, there you are, Emma. Excellent, you managed to get a table. Good to see you again, Nico,” he said, shaking the other man’s hand.
“You too,” replied Nico, although Emma thought he didn’t look particularly happy about it. Despite Nico’s many attributes, he did have a tendency to be a little grumpy. “Can I get you a drink?” he offered.
“A Peroni, thanks. I’m absolutely gasping,” said Paddy, shoving his hanky back in the breast pocket of his jacket.
“Tweed in this heat?” enquired Nico, looking Paddy up and down and taking in the English man’s suit with one of the brightly checked waistcoats he always wore beneath it.
“Well, it was rather cool and damp when we left London,” replied Paddy, whose only concession to the rise in temperature had been to loosen his bowtie.
“London. Cold and damp. How unusual,” murmured Nico before ordering drinks from the passing waiter: two beers for himself and Paddy and another glass of prosecco for Emma. She decided to pretend she hadn’t heard his dig about the weather back home. Nico’s father was French, and his mother was from London, but he seemed to conveniently forget he was half-English, too, when it suited him.
“Did you make it to the top of the dome?” she asked, turning to Paddy. He was a total history buff who loved art and architecture. He was possibly even happier than Emma to be in Florence.
“I did,” he replied, “and I got some amazing photos. I’ve already sent them to Maddie. Oh, that reminds me, I thought I’d send her a postcard too. I know it’s old-fashioned, but I think she’d appreciate it.”
He quickly turned and hurried back across the piazza.
“Maddie? Your sister, Maddie?” asked Nico as they watched him trot over to a small stall selling souvenirs.
“Yes,” replied Emma. “They’ve been seeing rather a lot of each other. Paddy was a huge help over the summer. Dad’s still out of action. He needs another operation on his hip, and Maddie and I were snowed under, so Paddy came down and hosted some of the wine tasting events for us. Now, Paddy’s completely besotted, and Maddie keeps wandering around the office with a silly grin on her face.”
Nico looked at her, then raised an eyebrow. “You don’t sound entirely happy. Don’t you approve?”
“Of course I approve. Paddy is absolutely lovely,” replied Emma quickly before taking another sip of her drink. In truth, she was happy for the two of them, but it had felt rather odd seeing her little sister embark on a new romance. She’d been so busy with work, she hadn’t been on a date in ages. The last time someone had asked her out had been a disaster. A local journalist who had written an article on King’s Wines had asked her out for a drink, but she’d got confused with the name of the pub and had gone to the White Swan instead of the Black Swan. By the time she’d realised her mistake and arrived at the right place, he’d left in a huff and had refused to respond to any of her apologetic calls or texts. Not that she was about to admit any of this to Nico. There was no way he would understand. He’d always had glamorous girls falling at his feet.
“Well, I’m not so sure it’s a good idea,” he said now, shaking his head as he took a sip of his beer.
“What do you mean?” she asked in surprise. Nico had only met her sister once, and while he and Paddy often saw each other through work, they certainly weren’t close enough to give each other relationship advice.
“Paddy and Maddie? They sound like a pair of characters in a children’s cartoon. No, it won’t work.” Then, seeing her cross expression, he gave a lazy smile. “I’m joking, Emma.”
“Well, it wasn’t very funny!”
“I apologise. Perhaps I need to tap into my British side to improve my sense of humour.” He raised his glass in a toast. “To Maddie and Paddy. I hope they will be very happy.”
Feeling slightly mollified, Emma clinked her glass against his.
“To Maddie and Paddy. Sorry if I was grumpy. I was up early, so I’m a bit knackered. Where is Kiara, anyway?” she asked, deciding to change the subject. “I sent her a text as soon as I landed. She was supposed to be meeting me.”
Kiara Patel was Emma’s best friend. They had also met at college in Lausanne. The two of them had been roommates, and despite Kiara being based in India, they were still close. However, they only seemed to get together at wine-buying events. Officially, Kiara attended to choose wine for her father’s chain of supermarkets, but she spent far more time and energy on The Kolkata Corkscrew, her podcast about all things wine.
“I expect she’s occupied elsewhere,” he replied cryptically.
“What do you mean?”
“She arrived here a few days ago to do some research for her podcast and apparently bumped into an old flame,” he explained.
“Oh? Who?” asked Emma, suddenly interested. Her own love life might be stuck in the doldrums, but Kiara was far more successful when it came to romance. Although Emma did sometimes find it difficult to keep track of who she was currently dating.
