Must Be Murder (The Otto Viti Mysteries Book 1) Read online

  Holly jabbed a thumb over her shoulder toward the men and huffed, “They want to learn self-defense. Just a move or two.”

  “Otto Viti isn’t safe anymore,” Eduardo said from behind her. “We need to know how to protect ourselves.”

  Holly turned to him. “Mr. Salizar, I told you I’d do the talking.”

  He stared at my sister for a moment and then nodded. I’m not sure I had ever seen him back down before.

  Holly faced Jules again and said, “I know that the class is only for women, but just for today, can we make it for women and men over the age of seventy?”

  Jules chuckled. “Of course!”

  I surveyed the Council of Elders. Artie still had on his bow tie and suspenders, but instead of dress pants, he was wearing gray sweats that were hitched up as high as Morrie’s black ones were. Morrie’s glasses were gone. I didn’t know if he was wearing contacts or had just decided to go without. His rapid blinking made me think he had decided to go without. Aldo and Eduardo had matching sweatbands on their wrists and heads. They had opted to go with shorts and knee socks rather than sweats. A good choice, really, since it was still over eighty degrees outside.

  Jules smiled at us as a gust of wind blew wisps of hair into her mouth. As she pulled them away, I could practically see the wheels turning in her head as she revised her plans to accommodate the newcomers.

  “Okay,” she said, clapping her hands together and holding them grasped in front of her. “Let’s review some of the most effective, basic, self-defense moves that everyone should know. Pair up. Morrie and Eduardo, I want you two together. Aldo and Artie, you two work together. Everyone else, pair up however you like.”

  I glanced to my left and right. Amy was standing nearest to me. We made eye contact and nodded our partnership.

  “We’re going to start by practicing how to get away from someone who has grabbed your wrist.” Jules turned to Livy who had stepped next to her and almost always helped with demonstrations. Livy grabbed Jules’ wrist, and Jules tried to get away, just as anyone normally would—by pulling back. Livy held tight.

  “This doesn’t work, does it?” Jules said.

  We all shook our heads.

  “This is what you should do instead. Turn your wrist so that your thumb lines up with where your attacker’s thumb and fingers meet. Then jerk sharply away, bending at the elbow.” She demonstrated, and her wrist came free with ease. “The attacker won’t be able to hold on. He—or she—won’t be able to keep his thumb and fingers closed around your wrist if you use your power against that weak connection.”

  She demonstrated again. Easily, she pulled away from Livy.

  And then she did something I loved best about Jules’ self-defense classes.

  She walked up to Eduardo, totally calmly—though her eyebrows were furrowed as though about to ask him an important question. But instead of asking a question, she grabbed his wrist, quick as a flash, and started pulling on him. A sneak attack!

  Surprise and horror crossed Eduardo’s face.

  “Do it! Do it!” Amy and I yelled at the same time. Then I added, “Use the move to get away!”

  It only took a second for Eduardo to get his bearings. He twisted his wrist and pulled down, freeing himself easily.

  “Good job!” Jules said, patting Eduardo on the back. He cracked a smile and covered his heart with a hand.

  “My goodness, that nearly gave me a stroke,” he said.

  Jules laughed. “No strokes today, please. Good job being prepared.” She turned to the rest of us. “Okay, try it out with your partners.”

  As we practiced, Jules came over to Amy and me and whispered in our ears, “Make sure that you sneak attack the guys in the next couple of minutes. I want them all to have an opportunity to think fast.”

  We did as Jules asked, and the men did pretty well. This was definitely new territory for them—none were used to being on guard, but that’s why we did self-defense: to change that. Each time we surprised them, they recovered quickly. I was especially proud of my grandfather.

  After we finished practicing our first escape move, Jules clapped to get our attention. “Good job, everyone. Keep that move in your back pocket all the time. It’s simple and efficient. We’ve got one more simple and efficient move to talk about tonight.” She nodded to Livy, who took a step toward her to demonstrate whatever was coming next.

  Jules yelled in her face. Livy jumped back and yelped.

  We all laughed, and Jules grinned.

  “You laugh,” she said, “but your voice is your very best weapon. It could startle your attacker, and it could alert anyone else around that there’s trouble.”

  We spent the rest of self-defense trying to scare the dickens out of each other with yells and practicing the wrist escape move with different partners. I think I got to practice with everyone but Stella, who had disappeared about halfway through class. Each time Amy or I tried to startle one of the old men with a surprise attack, they got better at getting away.

  Class normally lasted anywhere between thirty and sixty minutes depending on what we were doing, and by about five-thirty, the Council of Elders looked like they had enough, so we called it quits. Plus, some of us wanted to head back to our shops for final crush festival preparations. Holly and I walked with Aldo toward D’Angelo Winery.

  “You did great, Nonno,” Holly said. “I didn’t know what to think when you guys said you wanted to learn self-defense, but I’m glad you did.”

  “Yeah, that was a good idea,” I chimed in. “Maybe the class shouldn’t be for women only. Maybe we ought to get all the men in there, too.”

  Aldo nodded at his feet. “Ah, a good idea. I feel good.”

  “Do you think the other guys are satisfied?” Holly asked. “Will Eduardo give up his campaign for a neighborhood watch group now?”

  Aldo chuckled and turned his palms upward.

  I saw a bright yellow flyer attached to a bench steps away from us, and I snatched it as we passed by.

  “Oh jeez,” I mumbled as I read it.

  Otto Viti is under attack!

  Please come to a meeting about neighbors watching out for neighbors

  Sunday night after the Crush Festival

  8 pm

  Deseo restaurant

  “What is he thinking?” I shook my head and folded the yellow paper. “We’re not even a neighborhood. Only a handful of shop owners live here—and that’s like thirty people.”

  “At least he’s waiting until after crush to hold the meeting,” Holly said.

  “I convinced him to wait,” Aldo said. “Too much to do before then.”

  “Thank goodness,” I said. Sheesh, that guy was a handful. “Hey, when’s dinner? Did Stella disappear from self-defense to cook?” That happened from time to time. Normally Jason bar-be-qued on Fridays, but when work was extra hectic, Stella would skip the last part of Jules’ class and cook.

  Holly nodded. “Jason was pretty busy getting everything ready for tomorrow, so she volunteered to make dinner. I think Eduardo was annoying her with his yelping, and she was happy to go.”

  Aldo laughed and shook his head. “Oh, that Stella,” he said.

  “I bet she’ll have dinner ready in the next half-hour or so,” Holly added.

  I pulled my cell phone from my back pocket and checked the time. A half hour was all I needed. “Great. I’ve got to run a quick errand. I’ll see you in a little bit.”

  Holly and Aldo peeled off toward the house once we reached the winery, and I continued on Via del Corso toward Snapdragon.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Maybe it was seeing the flier and feeling a little annoyed by it. Maybe it was being pumped up from yelling at people in self-defense for the last half-hour. Or maybe it was just me being me. Whatever it was, I was ready to confront the Berkes. No more pseudo-sly, ineffective questions.

  The door to Snapdragon was open as it usually was during the day when guests were constantly going in and out. I saw Katia stan
ding behind the reception desk, her hair pulled back by what must have been another homemade clip from the looks of the peacock feathers sprouting from her scalp. I stepped inside and glanced through the doorway leading to the dining room where Carolina was wiping down the big farm-style table. They must have just finished their afternoon nosh of cheeses and wine.

  “Hi Katia,” I said while approaching the desk. “I need to talk to you and Carolina. Can we sit down?” I pointed through the doorway toward Carolina. “Perhaps over there?”

  Katia looked at me, her eyes a little buggy. She chewed on her lip, glancing back and forth from the doorway to me and back again.

  It must have been the leftover traces of adrenaline that gave me the confidence to push on. “Look, I’m not going away until I say what I want to say. You might as well get this over with.”

  “All right,” she said. She marched toward the dining room, the peacock feathers in her hair swaying with each step. I followed and nearly ran into her as she stopped abruptly in the doorway.

  “Carolina, we have a visitor,” she said, her voice higher and softer than I was used to.

  Carolina gave me a hard look, and I held up my hand to stop her.

  “You don’t have a choice,” I said. “You have to hear me out. Please sit.” I motioned to the bench seat at the table.

  The sisters exchanged glances—the kind of glances that my sisters and I gave each other. The kind that encapsulated whole conversations with the slightest movement of an eyebrow or lip twitch. I nearly told them to knock it off. I really was pumped up from yelling for the last half-hour.

  “I’m going to be straight with you,” I said. I sat across from the sisters. “I found that big hair clip of yours with the feathers and rhinestones—the one I was asking about the other day.”

  The sisters didn’t flinch. Their faces remained stony.

  “It was in the wine vat where Marlo died. And immediately I thought you had something to do with her death.”

  Carolina’s face morphed into an expression of horror. Katia’s crumpled, and tears filled her eyes.

  “Stop,” I said, holding up my hand. “I found out later that Marlo had stolen it from you as part of a little game she played—one I now simply call Being Mean.” I even used air quotes to emphasize my last words. “She wore it out that night, and it probably came out sometime during the accident.”

  Both sisters slumped slightly and looked at each other. I sensed that they felt a bit of relief, but their expressions were still distraught. They must have been bracing themselves for more because they didn’t speak.

  “It’s widely known,” I continued, “That you didn’t like the bachelorette party staying here. You even said to me that if I didn’t do something about the noise you’d do something about it. It’s also widely known that you visited Livy down at Mortar and Pestle the afternoon—”

  “Katia and Carolina Berke?” a voice said behind me from the lobby.

  The sisters’ eyes rose over my head, and I turned toward the voice. It was Detective Fitts standing in the doorway.

  “You two need to come down to the station with me.”

  I whipped back toward the sisters as Katia gasped and covered her mouth. Carolina put her hand on her sister’s shoulder and looked indignantly at Fitts.

  I jumped to my feet. “Why?” I asked before the sisters could speak. “Are you arresting them? What for?”

  “None of your business, D’Angelo,” he said. “And what are you doing here anyway? Don’t you ever go home?”

  “We didn’t do anything, officer,” Carolina said. “We didn’t hurt anyone.”

  “I just need you to come with me,” Fitts said. “I’ll tell you more when Miss Busybody isn’t around.” His eyes darted to me.

  Katia was crying full speed. Carolina was holding together better, but she was shaking as though on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

  “We offered the sleep aid to guests that afternoon, but we never put it in anyone’s drink,” Carolina said. She wrung her hands, and the shaking of her arms became more and more pronounced with each passing second. “I think some of the guests took it, but some didn’t. Maybe Marlo took it, but we didn’t drug her. We didn’t.”

  Katia let out a ragged sob. She looked at me, horrified. “Jill, we didn’t drug anyone. We just put the sleep aid out there and said anyone who wanted it was welcome to it.” The words came out both choppy and slurry at the same time, but I understood. “You’ve got to believe us. You’ve got to help us.”

  Fitts let out a frustrated sigh. “Will you two just come with me and stop talking?” He took a step into the room, and Carolina caught the movement from the corner of her eye. She gently guided her sister by the shoulders toward the detective.

  “There’s got to be someone who can help us sort this out,” Carolina said over her shoulder. “Jill, please find someone to help us sort this out. We didn’t drug her, I swear.”

  “Detective,” I said. “Surely we can talk about this for a moment. Can’t we have a conversation here rather than at the station? Can you just listen to their side first?”

  “D’Angelo, you’re getting on my last nerve. Stop butting in. Stop.” He watched the sisters pass him in the doorway. Before he followed them through the lobby, he gave me one last look. “Just stop.” He turned and disappeared.

  I sat down at the farm table, staring at the dark wood grain and thinking about what just happened.

  Well. That wasn’t how I expected my visit with the Berkes to go.

  A moment later, I gathered my senses. Was Fitts arresting the Berkes? That was unclear to me. Maybe he just needed to question them again and he didn’t want me around for it. That was possible, wasn’t it? I was kind of a pain in the butt.

  But what if they were being arrested?

  The sisters had gotten a sleep aid from Livy, and if that sleep aid had been in Marlo’s system, maybe it played a role in why she drowned. But what if the sisters were telling the truth and they just offered the bachelorette party the sleep aid alongside the cheese and wine? Could they really be accused of foul play in Marlo’s death? Really? They wanted Marlo to fall asleep early for the sake of peace and quiet. They didn’t want her dead. And they didn’t force her to take the pills—supposedly. They certainly didn’t force her to break into my family’s winemaking facility or ruin a vat of wine.

  Was there even a way to determine whether the sleep aid or the carbon dioxide from the must caused her to pass out?

  I didn’t know. I wasn’t an expert.

  All that aside, a bigger question remained: how did Marlo end up with a chunk of missing hair, a broken finger, a sweater with a missing button, and whatever else Fitts wasn’t telling us about? The Berkes needed an alibi for that night, whether or not they offered Marlo herbal sleep aids.

  I whipped out my phone and texted Jason.

  I need the contact information for Aldo’s lawyer.

  Then I set down the phone and wondered what to do. How long would the sisters be gone?

  My phone buzzed as a message came in. Are you okay? What happened? Jason texted back.

  I’m fine, I responded. Be at Aldo’s soon. Just need to help out a friend. Can you send me the contact info?

  Jason didn’t reply right away, so I scrolled through my recent calls and found Shane’s number. I tapped it and waited for the call to connect.

  “Hello?” he answered after the second ring.

  “Shane, it’s Jill,” I said. “Is Angelia with you? I need to talk to her.”

  “Is everything okay?” he asked.

  “Can I just talk to her, please? It’s about her mom’s death.”

  A beep in my ear alerted me that another call was coming in. I glanced at the phone screen and saw Jason was calling. I hit ignore and waited for Angelia’s voice on the other end.

  “Jill?” she said. “Has there been a break in the case?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. I recounted what had just happened, trying
to highlight what was most important. By the time I finished, I better understood the Berkes’ panic. If they hadn’t purposely spiked Marlo’s drink and she took the sleep aid on her own, how could they prove that they didn’t contribute to Marlo falling asleep in the wine? The Berkes were annoying, but they weren’t killers. They were irritated hoteliers who made a bad decision while attempting to quiet their disruptive guests. And now, they might be arrested for it. I took a deep breath and finally came to the million-dollar question. “Do you remember the Snapdragon sisters putting out some sleeping pills with the afternoon wine and snacks? Does that ring a bell?”

  Angelia hesitated. After a moment, she said, “I don’t know. I wasn’t there. My friends and my mom were driving me nuts, so I ditched the bachelorette party and went to hang out with Shane. And then he and I went out to dinner, so I wasn’t at Snapdragon most of the afternoon and evening.”

  “What about Janelle? She would have been there, right? Can you call her and ask?”

  “I’d rather not.” Her voice was flat and final.

  “Okay, then can you give me her phone number? So I can call her?”

  “Sure. I’ll get it.” A moment of silence followed, and I imagined Angelia pulling out her own cell phone and scrolling through it. I jumped up and scampered to the front desk in the lobby for a pen. I grabbed one just in time to scrawl the number across a loose piece of Snapdragon stationary.

  “Thank you,” I said. “By chance, did you see the Berkes when you got back from dinner with Shane that night?”

  “No. But I’ll text some of my friends from the party. Maybe they’ll remember what happened that afternoon. And maybe they saw the sisters that night.”

  “Good idea, thank you. If they remember, can you please have them call the detective?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Thank you, Angelia.” I pushed some wisps of hair that escaped my ponytail behind my ears and pressed my hand to my forehead, feeling the heat emanating from my distress. “I just want to find the right person. If the Berkes didn’t do it, Fitts shouldn’t waste his time on them.”