Free Days of Wine and Roquefort (Cheese Shop Mystery) by Avery Aames Page B

part-timer, Tyanne, was also the town’s premier wedding planner. Currently she was busy prepping Liberty Nelson’s wedding.
    “Okay, we’ll eat fast. Grab two of those sandwiches.” In addition to daily quiches, we offered gourmet sandwiches, but once they sold out, we didn’t make more. Matthew pointed at the Mortadella and Scharfe Maxx Swiss cheese torpedoes layered with peppers and red onions. “I’ll fetch a couple of sparkling waters, unless, of course, you want to try the Plavac Mali from Croatia.”
    “Never heard of it.”
    “It’s what a pinot and cab franc would taste like if they had a lovechild. Zinfandel is one of the two parent varietals of Plavac. I’m offering it at this afternoon’s tasting.”
    “You’re on. But just a smidgen.” I signaled a thimbleful. Drinking wine midday made me crave a long winter’s nap.
    When I settled into the chair at my desk, Rags hopped into my lap. He kneaded my thighs with his claws and meowed like the dickens. Last night, he had acted like nothing was wrong, but I sensed something more today. Perhaps his trek into the garage had disturbed him on a deeper level. If only he could talk. Would I have to hire a cat whisperer to determine the problem? I pulled a treat out of the lower desk drawer and waved it under his nose. He slurped it into his mouth and begged for more.
    “What’s his problem?” Matthew said as he shuffled into the office.
    I arched a brow.
    “Never mind,” Matthew said. “Stupid question. He’s a sensitive soul. He knows Noelle is dead.” He handed me a Riedel “O” Series glass containing a small portion of ruby red wine and raised his own glass. “
À votre santé
.”
    “
À la votre
.”
    Matthew sat in the chocolate brown director’s chair that I had picked up at a garage sale. In silence, we bit into our sandwiches. The combination of the salami, cheese, and peppers made me swoon. Scharfe Maxx, a robust Swiss cheese made near Lake Constance in north Switzerland, was one of my favorites. Homemade rennet was key to its extraordinary complexity. I adored the lingering flavor of mushrooms.
    After finishing half of his sandwich, Matthew wiped his mouth with a napkin and said, “Do you think Urso is going to track down Boyd Hellman?”
    “Of course he will. Don’t worry.”
    Matthew set his sandwich on the desk and slumped forward in his chair, elbows perched on his knees, head cradled in his hands.
    “What aren’t you telling me, Matthew?” I asked.
    “Nothing.”
    “Were you involved with Noelle?”
    “No!”
    Rags startled and hurtled to his feet. He padded in a circle in my lap.
    “Shh,” I cooed. “Lie down.” He obeyed.
    “Noelle was . . .” Matthew’s voice drifted away.
    “She was what?”
    Matthew didn’t answer at first and then in a whisper, he said, “She was the first assistant sommelier I ever had. We became good friends.”
    “How good? You don’t know whether she had any other family.”
    “And you didn’t know anything about Jordan for a long time.”
    “Touché.”
    Matthew shrugged. “Noelle was very private.”
    “Did you know Boyd Hellman? Had you met him?”
    “I’d already relocated here when she got involved with him. For the second time. She broke it off the first time because . . .” Matthew sighed. “They were teens. Boyd did something stupid. He participated in a couple of petty thefts. No arrests. Kid stuff. But Noelle couldn’t stand it. She kicked him out. He reentered her life a few years ago and somehow convinced her he had changed. He claimed he was an upstanding guy. Salt of the earth.” Matthew shook his head. “I urged her to keep away from him, but sometimes smart people make dumb decisions. If only I . . . I want to make sure that U-ey is doing all he can.”
    “He will. He’s good and diligent. We’re so lucky to have him.”
    “Yeah, but without your help in the past—”
    “He’ll get this done. Promise.”
    Matthew laced his fingers behind