Last of the Vintage Page 12

  “That’s the size of it,” Johnson said. “Hang on…”

  Dulcie could hear Nick’s voice in the background.

  “Nick says don’t mention the money or insurance or anything. Just find out if she’s,” he paused, “with child.”

  “I think I can do that,” Dulcie acknowledged. “I’ll have to think of a reason why I need to talk to her, though. I’ll let you know what I find out.”

  “Perfect. Thanks Dulcie. Nick sends kisses… OW!” The phone went silent.

  Dulcie could only imagine the scene taking place between them at that moment. She wondered if Johnson’s cell phone was still in one piece.

  Dulcie went back out into the gallery. She walked through the new exhibit again. Cold. Snow. Ice. It was everywhere. What would it have been like for Jeremy to be lying in it, his body slowly shutting down? Did he even know? She shivered involuntarily.

  That might be the key, though, with Samantha. Not to discuss Jeremy, but to talk about the Little Ice Age. Dulcie could come up with a number of questions to ask about that, and might possibly be able to steer the conversation to other matters as well. It was worth a try, but was it too soon? Would it be too insensitive or presumptuous to assume that Samantha was willing to talk about anything while her husband was still lying in the morgue?

  Dulcie tried to put herself in Samantha’s place. Would mourning someone preclude everything else? It probably depended on who died, Dulcie realized. In this case, she wasn’t certain if Samantha still harbored strong feelings of love toward her husband. Neither of them seemed to be overly affectionate at the opening and wine tasting. To Dulcie, it looked like a relationship gone sour.

  She’d have to risk it. What was the worst that could happen, after all? Samantha would be offended and hold Dulcie in contempt for the rest of her life. That was unlikely.

  Dulcie went back to her desk and began writing down questions on the Little Ice Age. As always, she wanted to be well prepared.

  #

  Geoffrey Spratt liked a good plan. He had stayed up long into the previous night weighing various options and had at last determined a way to move forward. It was the only way, really. He had known that all along. He just had to review any other possibilities thoroughly and rule them out.

  The family fortune was intact thanks to him. He had not only managed the money but, more importantly, had managed the family itself to make sure that everything was balanced, that everyone felt they had their fair share. That was the key.

  The only wild card was Patrick. He himself seemed oblivious to anything financial. He wasn’t a spendthrift, he simply never paid any attention, always assuming that money would be available. The others in the family had noticed and were becoming irritated.

  Samantha was the key. Patrick’s recent antics were certainly not going to heal any breach in their former relationship. Geoffrey had known, almost since the beginning, that he would have to step in. Radical measures were required.

  After the death of her husband, Geoffrey had at first planned to call Samantha and ask her to meet with him. Then he realized that it would put her on the spot. Apprehension would almost certainly make her decline immediately. Her performance at the wine tasting when Patrick had approached her confirmed that.

  A note would be much better. A note on the family stationery. A note on the gold-engraved family stationery sent in the matching envelope with the navy-blue lining. It was intended to exude wealth, and it did.

  The note was in the guise of a condolence but the subtext was all that mattered. Geoffrey had to assuage Samantha in two ways. First, he needed to flatter her and second, he needed to convey the benefits of the Spratt family wealth while reminding her of her comparative lack of funds.

  Both goals could be accomplished with the same topic. Normally, Geoffrey thought, women would be flattered by compliments on their appearance. Not Samantha. Her entire world was her work, and not her ‘weather girl’ job. It was science. He knew that he needed to praise her skills as a scientist. He needed to hint that her research work should continue. And he needed to connect both of these to Patrick and a renewed relationship with him.

  The note, now safely tucked inside the austerely lavish envelope read:

  Dear Samantha,

  I cannot convey how saddened we are at hearing of your loss. I know that you and Patrick parted ways long ago, but both he and I have wished nothing but the best for you. We were delighted by the success of your career. Patrick has mentioned, many times over during the past few years, how brilliant you always were in the realm of meteorology and how he hoped that you would eventually return to research. He thought your talents were wasted on the daily forecast, although I realize that not only is it a great service to the public at large, it was also the best option for you and your husband as a couple. Sometimes these things are more important.

  This loss will take time to heal, but I hope that once you have been able to move forward again you will continue with your chosen career and the work that makes you happy. You certainly deserve that and more.

  Please let me or Patrick know if we can help in any way during this difficult time.

  Your friend,

  Geoffrey Spratt

  He had proofread it twice, smiling each time. Yes, it certainly conveyed exactly what it should. He just needed to coach his nephew in how to handle the situation properly, gain Samantha’s trust, and win her back. Geoffrey Spratt was not a religious man, but he now looked toward the heavens in silent prayer that Patrick wouldn’t screw it up.

  #

  The winter sun evidently had been incapable of warming anything during the day, and now cast long shadows as it began to brush the horizon. It wasn’t even five o’clock yet, and it was getting dark. Dulcie had lived in Maine for the better part of her lifetime, but still could not get used to the short winter days.

  She now sat at the wine bar owned by her friend, Veronica, the very same wine bar where Jeremy had worked. Dulcie had chosen the location purposefully. Veronica would be able to help. Dulcie also thought that since Jeremy had worked there, she would be able to steer the conversation in that direction more readily. Dulcie’s primary motive for suggesting this particular meeting place, however, was to see if Samantha would order a non-alcoholic drink. Dulcie had tried to remember if she had seen Samantha drinking champagne at the museum exhibit opening but her memory failed her.

  Dulcie and Nick had decided they both would meet with Samantha and had planned carefully. Dulcie would arrive first, well before the appointed time she had set with Samantha, and have a glass of wine in front of her. When Samantha arrived, Dulcie would offer condolences and talk with her for a moment. Meanwhile, Veronica had been instructed to wait until Nick arrived before taking his and Samantha’s orders for drinks. Nick, who was of course hiding in the shadow of a nearby doorstep, would wait a bit after he had seen Samantha enter, then would join all of them.

  Nick would order only seltzer water, citing his cold and the medicine he was taking. This would give Samantha the option of doing the same and would spark a brief conversation about one’s health, alcohol and medication, and, with any luck, pregnancy.

  It was a risk having a man present when attempting to spark a conversation about pregnancy, but it was the only way that Dulcie could think of to come close to raising the subject. Besides, she knew that she couldn’t talk with Samantha about Jeremy’s death on her own without raising some suspicion. Best to have it out in the open that the detectives were looking into it.

  Samantha arrived and Dulcie greeted her warmly. As Samantha took off her coat, Dulcie stole a glance at her midsection. Unfortunately, Samantha was wearing a long, bulky sweater that revealed nothing. She hiked herself up on the barstool.

  “I think Nick will be along soon,” Dulcie began. “Ah, here he is!” she added as he came through the door. He hung up his coat and took a seat on the other side of Dulcie.

  Veronica appeared on cue. She had made it a point the day before to visit
Samantha to offer her condolences. As Jeremy’s former boss, it was expected. Now she smiled at her and said, “Good to see you again. I hope you’re doing okay.”

  Samantha nodded. She was actually feeling better than anyone realized. “I’m holding up,” she said.

  “I’m glad to see you in here. Jeremy loved this place and we were so grateful that he worked with us. He had such a talent.”

  Samantha felt as though she was going to scream. It was still all about Jeremy and wine. But she had to hold on for just a little while longer. “He was happy working here,” she managed.

  Veronica smiled. “What can I get you two?” she asked looking back and forth between Nick and Samantha.

  “Just a seltzer water for me,” he said. “I’m in the throes of a rotten cold right now and with these meds I’ve been taking, I’m afraid anything stronger would nock me flat.”

  Veronica nodded in agreement. “And you?” she asked Samantha.

  “I’ll have the same,” she said simply.

  Dulcie felt Nick elbow her.

  “Have you been sleeping at all?” Dulcie asked Samantha.

  “Not really,” she replied.

  “Wine, or something like it, might help?” Dulcie suggested.

  “No, I really can’t drink anything right now,” Samantha said flatly.

  The subject seemed closed. Dulcie sighed.

  When Veronica returned, Nick decided to appear to act in his official capacity and ask questions. He went through the usual routine. Did Jeremy have any enemies? Did anyone appear to behave unusually? Did Jeremy behave in an odd manner on the day of the event? Was there anything that seemed unusual?

  At this last question, Samantha looked thoughtful. “You know, I was distracted at the time, but now that I’m thinking of it, something did seem strange.”

  “What’s that?” Nick asked. He was trying to keep himself from pulling out his notepad. He wanted this conversation to appear more casual. People opened up more when he wasn’t writing things down, he’d discovered.

  “It was during the wine tasting in the boardroom,” Samantha continued. “As Veronica knows, Jeremy loved his wine. He loved talking about it. He’d go on and on sometimes. It wasn’t because he wanted to show off, he was just, I guess ‘obsessed’ is the right word.”

  “I can second that one,” Veronica concurred.

  Samantha continued. “When he was in front of everyone and going through the official tasting, he talked about the the vintage, the history, and all of that. But when he actually tasted the wine, he said very little.”

  Dulcie thought back to the evening. Samantha was right. Jeremy hadn’t said much at that point. “Do you think the wine was a bit off and he didn’t want to mention it?” she asked. “Maybe he noticed it with his more sensitive palate but thought that probably no one else would?”

  Samantha shook her head. “I don’t know. I just think it’s a little out of character. But then, he was a little nervous about the whole event. He’d talked about what a big deal it was, how those people were very influential and could help his career. Maybe he just got tongue-tied because of that.”

  Nick finished his seltzer. He was anxious to leave and write everything down. “I have to go meet up with Johnson,” he said. “My partner,” he clarified for Samantha. “Don’t let me rush you two,” he added as he slid off the barstool. Dulcie saw him slip a twenty on the bar as he left. He was thoughtful to the last detail.

  Samantha was staring into her glass. She waited until she heard the door close. “You know,” she said, looking up at Dulcie. “I thought of another reason why Jeremy might have stopped talking.”

  “Really?” Dulcie asked.

  “I didn’t want to say anything with him here.” She nodded toward the door where Nick had just exited. “It’s kind of silly. But I was thinking that Jeremy could have suddenly realized, while he was talking, who Patrick actually was. Which is to say, he was my ex-boyfriend. We were very close, unofficially engaged, really.” There. She had done it. Planted the seed.

  Dulcie knew that something was odd about Samantha’s statement but couldn’t quite place it. Did Samantha think that Jeremy was jealous of Patrick? Or fearful of him?

  Samantha didn’t appear to want to offer anything else, so Dulcie decided to change the subject. “I thought of you earlier today for a very different reason,” she said. “I was looking at one of our paintings, The Magpie, and I realized that the Little Ice Age may have been partially responsible for the Impressionist movement.”

  Samantha giggled. She realized that it was the first time that she had laughed in weeks, even before this whole business with Jeremy. “Really? That seems a little crazy!” she exclaimed.

  “Well not entirely responsible, but some of the early paintings by Monet and his contemporaries were snow studies. The artists looked at the way light and mist and other weather conditions changed the colors of the snow and the air. They even started painting shadows as colors instead of just shades of gray.”

  Samantha was silent for a moment. “It makes sense,” she said finally. “The light will refract according to what’s in the air. And I would think that white is the best background to really see that,” she observed, squinting as she pictured it in her mind. She opened her eyes wide again. “Isn’t it interesting that the weather, the climate, has so much affect on everything, including history. What I find odd, sad really, is that we know so much more about the science of it now, but it seems as though we pay attention less. Except for having someone,” she pointed to herself, “tell us every day how to dress.”

  ‘She loves the science,’ Dulcie thought. ‘And not her current job.’ She said aloud, “Spoken like a true scientist.”

  “I’m hoping to get back to research some day,” Samantha said almost wistfully. She glanced at her watch. “I’m sorry Dulcie, but I should go. I’m meeting someone in a few minutes.” She pulled out her wallet from her purse.

  “No, no. Nick already took care of this!” Dulcie stopped her.

  “That was kind of him,” Samantha said. “I hope I’ve helped.” As she reached for her coat, her sweater stretched across her stomach. Dulcie thought she noticed a small bulge. Samantha pulled the coat on and, just before buttoning it, put her hand on her stomach for a brief moment. Then she quickly fastened the thick wool around her, said goodbye to Dulcie, and left.

  Dulcie continued to sit at the bar, sipping her wine. “You’ve helped more than you know, Samantha. More than you know,” she said quietly.

  #

  “Because she touched her belly?” Nick looked a bit incredulous. Dulcie stood in the foyer of the police station between him and Johnson. “Maybe she’s just put on weight and is annoyed by it?” he added.

  Johnson grinned. “You’ve got a lot to learn about women,” he said. “I don’t envy you,” he added in a clandestine whisper to Dulcie. Nick glared at him.

  “Overweight women don’t typically touch their stomachs. Or anyplace else where they’ve put on weight. They don’t want to draw attention to it,” Dulcie said. “Pregnant women touch their bellies pretty often without even realizing it.”

  Johnson nodded emphatically in agreement. “Maria did all the time, and so does Cassie now.” Their daughter was now grown and about to have a child of her own.

  “Huh,” Nick acknowledged. “I never knew that.”

  Johnson looked at Dulcie and just shook his head.

  “Well we don’t know for sure, but it does point us in that direction,” Nick admitted.

  “And I’d say that’s a motive,” Johnson added.

  Dulcie glanced outside. It was completely dark and probably even colder than it looked. “I’d better be getting home,” she remarked.

  “I’ll walk with you,” Nick offered. They zipped coats, pulled on hats and gloves, waved to Johnson and ventured out into the cold blackness.

  “You kind of get used to it,” Dulcie said after gasping at the first freezing breath.

  “You
never get used to it,” Nick countered, catching himself as he slipped on an icy patch. “You just convince yourself that you’re used to it and that’s how we get through every winter.”

  He heard Dulcie laugh from beneath her scarf. “You’re right. We’re all really good liars, aren’t we. Especially to ourselves,” she observed.

  They were quiet for a moment, navigating their way along the sidewalk. Dulcie slipped and Nick quickly shot out an arm to catch her. He continued to hold her arm, an unconscious chivalrous gesture.

  Dulcie was right. Everyone was a good liar when they needed to be. Some people didn’t even realize when they were lying. “Do you think Samantha is lying?” he asked.

  “I think she’s clearly not telling us everything. I’d love to know more about her and Patrick Spratt, for example. Oh!” Dulcie stopped suddenly and nearly knocked Nick over. “Oops, sorry! I just remembered. After you left the wine bar, Samantha said something about him. Patrick, I mean. She said that she didn’t want to mention it with you around.”

  “Really? What was it?” Nick asked. A gust of wind came shooting down the sidewalk at them. They both stopped and turned their backs to it as it howled by, then returned to their original direction.

  Dulcie continued. “Remember that Samantha mentioned how Jeremy had said so little about the wine itself after he tasted it? She thought that Jeremy might have stopped talking so suddenly because he could have realized who Patrick Spratt was. Maybe he had put it all together at that moment, and knew that Patrick was her old boyfriend.”

  “Does that matter, do you think?” Nick asked. The wind howled down the street again. They both leaned into it this time, still moving forward.