A Vintage To Die For (Violet Vineyard Murder Mysteries Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page B

Jorge McCullers, her vineyard foreman.
    “I got twenty on Marjory in six rounds!” Billy Banks, the owner of Hilltop Wine Makers, yelled and laughter rippled through the crowd. But the mirth wasn't universal. While many people joined in, many more looked studiously at the ground or out across the valley. It was easy to divide them up: those who had been ravaged by Dimitri in the Examiner article and those who feared they would be if they mocked him.
    Marjory didn’t acknowledge the applause; she didn’t even seem to hear it. She was glaring down at Dimitri.
    “Get up!” she bellowed again, lunging forward, the heels of her shoes churning up the grass like an angry bull, snapping me around like a puppy on a leash. She would have gotten away from me completely if Victor hadn’t hurried over and grabbed her other arm. Marjory still had the weight advantage, but we held on with all our might and just managed to restrain her as Dimitri slowly got to his feet.
    Dimitri carefully took a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it to his nose. Alexandra touched his shoulder, a comforting gesture, but I swear the look in her eyes was not compassion but a sly amusement.
    “Kool-Aid!” Marjory yelled again and almost dragged me and Victor off our feet as she attempted a final charge.
    And then the cavalry arrived.
    “Stop it MJ,” Hunter Drake said as he squeezed through the dancers and came across the lawn.
    “Sheriff,” Dimitri said through the bloody handkerchief. “Arrest this woman! She has assaulted me without provocation!”
    “Dimitri—” Alexandra tried to intercede, but Marjory shouted over her.
    “You call that assault?” She lunged at Dimitri again and Victor hit the ground in a skinny pile while I was slung around in a half circle, “I’ll show you assault! Let me at him!”
    Hunter put himself between them, and held a palm up at Marjory. “Enough,” he said sharply, and he wasn’t the friendly, laid-back Hunter anymore. He raked his eyes over the still laughing assemblage gathered around the tent and the laughter died. A murmur went through them and people suddenly found other things to look at.
    Hunter turned his glare back on Marjory. “You’re ruining the party, Marjory.”
    That snapped Marjory to attention. She looked over her shoulder at the crowd and then at me, and her expression instantly transformed from angry to crestfallen.
    “I’m sorry, Claire,” she said, slurring the words a bit. “Your party…”
    “It's okay,” I told her, giving her a reassuring smile. To be honest, I found it hard to be upset with Marjory. Dimitri’s article had been both unfair and malicious to her and many others. Only the fawning few got a good review. “Why don't you go check on Samson?” I asked her, giving her a gentle push in that direction.
    By then Victor was on his feet. He brushed off the seat of his jeans. “Come on, Marjory,” he said and led her across the lawn toward the cellar where Samson was still hiding.
    “You are letting her leave?” Dimitri demanded of Hunter. “Arrest her! Now!”
    Hunt shook his head. “Not going to happen. I’ll take your statements down at the office tomorrow when both of you have calmed down.”
    “Statements? You saw what happened! It was an unprovoked attack!”
    Hunt cocked his head at that. “Unprovoked?” he said mildly. “Seems like you’ve been provoking people just a little bit, Mr. Pappos.”
    Dimitri drew himself up to his full height at that. “How dare you! You know nothing of wine! And neither do most of them,” he said, his voice taking on a honking quality behind the bloody handkerchief. “In Paris most of these people’s wines wouldn’t be fit to clean a chamber pot! I will have your badge!”
    “Quit acting like a buffoon, Dimitri,” Alexandra cut him off. “ You’re the one ruining the party.” She shot me an apologetic glance. “Could we trouble you for some ice and a towel, Claire?”
    “Of course,” I said.
    I