Free A Vintage To Die For (Violet Vineyard Murder Mysteries Book 2) by JM Harvey Page B

and wondering what was going on in my cellar, but I was actually more than happy to be sequestered. I had no desire to speak to any of my guests, who would undoubtedly have a million questions about what had happened in the cellar.
    Jessica joined Blake and me not long after Hunter left. She looked exhausted -dark circles had built under her eyes and her complexion was as pale as a specter - but she seemed calm enough. I hate to admit the terrible experiences we had all endured when Kevin Harlan was murdered had had an upside. The events, as awful as they were for Jess, had seemed to mature her almost overnight. That old Jessica would have fallen apart by now, but the new one took a seat across from me on one of the tasting benches, and gave me a wan but undaunted smile.
    “What’s going on out there?” I asked, and she shrugged.
    “They asked me a lot of questions, but I didn’t know anything.” She looked down at her lap and I saw a line of color climb her neck. “I was talking to…” she hesitated before continuing, “I was in the side yard when Alexandra started screaming.” She didn’t lift her eyes.
    My motherly suspicions got the better of me. It was obvious she was leaving something, or someone, out of her story. I remembered her coming around the corner of the house, flushed and a little rumpled, with Blake Becker just a few hours ago and my suspicions began to crackle into little angry flames. I’d kill him!
    Jessica lifted her head and said, “Almost everyone is gone.”
    I had surmised that by the number of cars I had heard start and accelerate away from my front yard over the last two hours.
    “The caterers are about to leave. The police are searching their van right now.”
    “Their van?” I asked.
    Jessica nodded. “They searched all the cars, mine and yours included.
    “What about Dimitri? Have they…”
    Jessica shivered and clenched her arms across her chest. “They took him away a few minutes ago. Midge Tidwell and another deputy are going through the cellar right now. They’ve boxed up a lot of stuff.”
    I sat bolt straight at that. The cellar is my baby, murder scene or not. “Boxed up what?”
    “A bunch of harvesting knives and clippers. Saws. Limb cutters.”
    I settled back in my chair. I wasn’t happy about it - the lack of tools was going to make the end of season cleanup of the vines impossible - but I could see little room for argument. I’d have to beg, borrow, or buy what we needed.
    I changed the subject. “You’ve been seeing a lot of Blake lately,” I said, and there was that well-worn scolding edge to my tone, a tone she had been hearing since she was in junior high. It’s funny, in a sad way, that no cataclysmic event, not even a murder in my home, could eradicate my need to meddle in my daughter’s affairs.
    Jessica’s lips compressed and she gave me a look of annoyance just as familiar to me. “Blake and I have been working out the details of your agreement with Star Crossed,” she said. “Transferring account information and past pricing lists. And you’re very welcome,” she cut me off with a snide little snap.
    “He’s a handsome man,” I said unapologetically. “And the way you two were giggling when you came back with the ice…”
    “Mom!” she gasped. “Blake is almost as old as you are!”
    “Which is two days younger than dirt,” I replied dryly, but I was relieved to hear it. Jessica’s choices in men had been less than stellar over the years; I didn’t think I could handle another bout of that kind of drama.
    “I ran into Blake and he offered to help carry the ice. That’s all.”
    Good to hear. I was about to change the subject back to the murder when the catering crews’ head chef, Charlie Nitti, stuck his head through the door. He looked tired and rumpled, with a shock of thick black hair hanging down in his youthful face. He appeared far too young to be a chef. And far too good looking - like a model in an underwear ad. Not