How to Dine on Killer Wine: A Party-Planning Mystery Read Online Free Page A

ability to open wines. Not like today, where you’ve got your electric Rabbit wine openers that even a toddler can use. I’ve got antique levers, screw pulls, twisters, double-prongs, waiter-style—you name it.”
    “I’ve never opened a bottle of wine,” my mother said. She grinned. “Someone is always there to open it for me. That’s what I call a wine opener.”
    “Funny, Mother,” I said to her, rolling my eyes.
    “I’m serious, dear,” she said, and continued down the hall after Rob.
    I had no doubt she was telling the truth.
    Rob stopped in front of an open door. “This is your room, Presley. Yours is next door, Veronica. You’ll be sharing a bathroom between the rooms. I hope that’s all right.”
    “Of course,” Mother said, stepping into the room I’d been assigned. I knew it was mine because my suitcase sat on top of a hope chest next to the window. The room was as impeccably decorated as the rest of the house, but in dark wine hues instead of brown leather. The fluffy comforter, heavy drapes, and woven area rug over the tile floor were all the same deep purple shade.
    On the walls were framed prints of the Napa Valley Mustard Festival, featuring bright fields of yellow flowers with multicolored hot-air balloons in the background and glasses of wine in the foreground. The half dozen satin pillows on the bed matched the mustard yellow in the poster exactly, a color scheme I would never have imagined—purple and yellow?—yet it worked perfectly. Back at my Treasure Island condo, not one pieceof furniture matched another, let alone shared the same or a complementary color. And the prints on my walls ran to noir movie posters like
The Maltese Falcon
, while my “collections” amounted to random displays of old birthday cards, Nancy Drew books, and cat fur. That’s how much I knew about decorating. But I knew money when I saw it. The Christophers had plenty.
    Rob stepped inside and opened the door to the shared bathroom. “This is—”
    He stopped abruptly, his hand still on the knob. Voices were coming from the other side of the bathroom door that led to Mother’s suite.
    “You’re going to get in trouble!” said a muffled angry male voice.
    A female voice countered with something I couldn’t make out through the door, but from the tone, she too sounded angry.
    Rob rushed through the bathroom and opened the other door leading to Mother’s room. “What’s going on in here?” he demanded.
    I peered in and recognized Allison. She stood facing us, her arms crossed, her face flushed. Javier stood with his back to me, holding his straw hat in his hand.
    “Allison!” Rob continued. “You should have been finished preparing the rooms by now. And Javier, why aren’t you back at work? What are you doing here?”
    “He’s helping me,” Allison said, glaring at Javier, her jaw set. She shot a look at Rob. “We were just fluffing the pillows, like you asked.” Her tone clearly suggested an attitude—it was hardly the way an employee might speak to her boss. At least, I’d assumed she was an employee.
    “
Perdóneme, señor
…I…I was just…on my way,” Javier stammered, gripping his hat in both hands as if it might shield him from injury. He shuffled out, head down, passing Allison without giving her a glance.
    Allison tossed an odd smile to Rob—more like a smirk—then spun around and left the room without shutting the door behind her.
    “Sorry about that,” Rob said. “We’re all under a lot of stress with this party. I’ve got the Green Grape people breathing down my neck, JoAnne threatening to call the police, and Napology trying to buy me out. And we haven’t had the best harvest the past couple of years. As for Allison”—he nearly spat out her name—“she hasn’t been with us long. I suppose it’s taking her time to learn everything.” Rob shook his head.
    “No problem,” I said.
    “And Javier,” Rob went on. “I know he’s worried about work. He was