Sauvigone for Good (The Wine Trail Mysteries Book 4) by J.C. Eaton

Author:J.C. Eaton [Eaton, J.C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lyrical Press
Published: 2019-12-10T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

“Everything is fine,” I announced to our guests. “The paramedics are in the kitchen with Mr. Roels. No need to worry.” Unless you happen to be Mr. Roels…

I pointed to the molds that Earvin created and, dredging up the information I had perused on the internet a few seconds ago, I gave what best could be called a haphazard explanation of filling chocolate molds and infusing additional flavorings.

Emma was quick to point out the facts about temperature variations and the need to heat up the flavored oils. I wasn’t exactly sure of the precise timing for injecting the molds. Was it while the chocolate was still warm or when it cooled slightly? It didn’t matter. Before I could get into that part of my fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants explanation, one of the EMTs walked over to where I was standing.

“Are you the winery owner?” Her dark brown hair was pulled into a tight ponytail and given the crow’s-feet around her eyes, I guessed her age to be fortyish.

“Uh, yeah. I’m Norrie Ellington. Will Mr. Roels be okay?”

“We should speak privately.”

Oh no. Not the “we should speak privately.” Anytime anyone uses an expression like that, you know it means trouble. I immediately turned to Emma. “And now, our chocolatier’s assistant will explain how to enjoy your samples with our Cabernet Sauvignon.”

Like the tasting room staff, Emma was conversant with the process for pairing wine with chocolate and, without missing a beat, she began to explain how to maximize the experience.

I looked around the room and, except for Glenda, everyone was at their tasting table. When he thought no one was looking, Sam ran his finger across his neck and pointed to the kitchen, as if I wasn’t worried enough about the “speak privately” comment. Like a puppy running after its master, I followed the EMT into the kitchen and took a deep breath.

One of the EMTs, another woman, slightly younger with brown chin-length hair, was on the phone. Another bad sign. The remaining EMTs, both men about my age, were taking Earvin’s vital signs.

The EMT, who told me we needed to talk, walked over to the double stainless sink, picked up the cup of tea Earvin had been drinking, and waved it under my nose. “It doesn’t appear as if your friend has been poisoned, but if he drank from this cup, he most likely ingested marijuana. Here, you can smell it yourself.”

“Marijuana! Let me smell that!”

Sure enough, it was an aroma I recognized. Not because I used the stuff, but who on earth hadn’t smelled it wafting through a dormitory or, better yet, at a concert. Still…marijuana? At our winery? Glenda was into all sorts of herbal remedies, but I seriously doubted she’d add that particular herb or weed, or whatever it was, to her teas.

Just then, I heard Earvin’s voice. “Is there anything to eat around here? I’m starving.”

The EMT who took Earvin’s vitals joined his colleague and me. “Mr. Roels appears to be recovering from his episode. Of course, without

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