Free Death By the Glass #2 by Nadia Gordon Page A

that was sweet and lovely, the stuff of pleasant daydreams, but it didn’t tell her where he got that Premier Grand Cru Reservée or if he had anything to do with dropping the second bottle in Nathan Osborne’s living room.
    He would probably be waiting for her when she got back upstairs. She foraged for a mint, as though fresh breath would help her think of what she would say to him, and walked out rehearsing excuses. A server coming out of the wine cellar nearlyran into her as he pushed out the door and jogged upstairs without a second look. She looked at the cellar door. Almost before the idea occurred to her, she slipped inside.
    She didn’t bother checking the racks in the middle of the room. What she was looking for was bound to be locked away in one of the alcoves. Nathan and Andre had at least two things in common, namely Vinifera and Château de Marceline. It stood to reason that both bottles probably came from Vinifera’s cellar, which would be the closest, most convenient source. It was worth having a look, at least. Sunny walked around a mountain of boxed cases to the other side of the cellar, where she peered through the grating on the locked alcoves at the bottles laying down inside. All she could see were the logos stamped into the foil at the end of the bottles on the first rack. There was almost no chance she would see anything useful in the gloomy light without a key to the grating, but she looked into each alcove anyway, hoping to find something. She was at the far end of the cellar, near the last of the alcoves, when the door opened and she saw Remy Castels come in with another man walking behind him.
    She froze in the shadows, hoping they wouldn’t look in her direction and quickly trying to think of a reason for her to be there. If they noticed her, she could always say she was curious about their wine collection in a professional capacity and wanted to make some notes. That might not suggest the best manners, but it was at least plausible. She watched them walk over to the main racks and turn down one of the rows. They wouldn’t see her unless they walked to the end of it and looked to the right. She crept over to a far stack of boxes, walking on the toes of her shoes like Catwoman, and sunk down behind them. She listened to them moving around the cave. The mansaid something she couldn’t hear. Remy’s reply was too muffled to make out. They rounded a corner and she could hear them more clearly. Remy said, “I’d have to check, but I don’t think we’ve bought any in months. He made those bottles last.”
    “At that price, I’m sure as hell glad he did,” said the other man. His deep voice resonated in the stone chamber.
    “He drank very little of that kind of thing lately,” said Remy.
    The man chuckled. “You’d never know it.”
    They turned down another row and Remy said, “What did you need, the ninety-four?” and the other’s voice said, “Ninety-six.”
    “Take the ninety-four. Tell them it’s worth the extra fifteen dollars. If they resist, give it to them at the same price as the ninety-six.”
    “Will do.”
    She heard heavy footsteps and then the door, presumably the other man leaving. Remy’s shoes made a soft, coarse sound as he moved down the rows of wine. His steps grew louder as he walked toward her, along the corridor that went past the alcoves. She edged further away, crouching low and hugging the card-board boxes of wine. He stopped and she heard the jangle of keys and a lock opening on one of the grate doors. A few minutes later it shut with a loud metallic clang and he walked back across the cellar to the main door and out. She exhaled with relief and walked around the far end of the cases toward the door.
    All that adrenaline was a waste of time. If she was going to find a bottle of Marceline in this place, she was going to need those keys. She was trying to think of ways that that might happen when, off to her left, a stack of boxes caught her eye.