Pasta, Pinot & Murder by Jamie Lee Scott

Author:Jamie Lee Scott [Scott, Jamie Lee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Novels & Coffee
Published: 2018-11-26T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

I didn’t see Hattie’s golf cart at the bed and breakfast, so I walked up the hill to her house. The golf cart was parked in its designated space next to the four-car garage. And Peter’s car was parked next to it.

Hattie must have still been feeling crappy. That she admitted it to me that morning was a miracle. It implied lack of control. That’s something she rarely admitted.

Peter opened the front door of the McMansion and held it open. “What brings you to the top of the hill?”

Top of the hill was right. The Friday home overlooked more than thirty acres of grapes. Such a beautiful sight, except during the winter when the vines look like gnarly arthritic hands. Just before harvest, as they were now, they looked full of life and bursting with color.

I looked behind me at the hustle of the farmhands prepping for harvest. The vines, with green and purple grapes, that looked ready to burst. The rows of vines grew right up to within ten feet of Hattie’s home.

“I came to talk to your mom. How’s she doing?” I walked past him and into the foyer.

Every time I walked into the Friday mansion, I was reminded of almost any episode of MTV’s Cribs. You’d expect a grape theme, considering the money that built this house, but I think this was Hattie’s retreat away from grapes. The entry had dark wood paneling like you’d see in an expansive home library, and a nine-foot ornate wooden table, with a massive flower arrangement that changed weekly and partially blocked the view down the center hall. I couldn’t say I was a fan of the birds of paradise arrangement I saw when I walked in. Not that the arrangement wasn’t nice, it just wasn’t my favorite flower.

“She’s in her bedroom. She says she’s fine, but as long as I’ve been alive, she’s never missed a day of work.” Peter closed the door and followed me into the entry.

“I’m going upstairs and have a chat with her.”

The staircase curved along both sides of the entry and I walked toward the one on the right, away from Peter.

Peter jogged up the stairs and grabbed my hand. “That’s probably not a good idea.”

I yanked my hand away. “I’m a big girl. If she turns me away, I’ll handle it.”

He stood planted on the stair just below me as I headed up.

I knocked lightly on the door. “Hattie, are you okay?”

I heard her strong voice through the thick door. “Go away.”

I opened the door and walked in. I found her sitting in front of her balcony with the doors open, rocking in an antique wooden chair. “I said go away, not come in.”

Mine and Peter’s bungalow would fit in Hattie’s bedroom twice. The room had heated marble floors covered mostly by two expensive antique rugs. She’d gotten them on a visit to Hong Kong. Her bed was to the right of the balcony, and had a silk diamond-tuck headboard that reached the twenty-foot ceiling.

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