Ellen McKenzie 03-And Murder for Desser by Kathleen Delaney Page B

about?” demanded Ian Applby, ignoring Carlton. He stared at Otto before swinging around to face Mark. “What wine? What is he talking about?”
    “The man’s a raving lunatic.” Mark threw down his napkin. His expression was furious, but something flickered in his eyes. “I have a barrel tasting to do.”
    “Yes. We know that,” said Mr. Applby. His eyebrows drew together as he frowned, his eyes moving back and forth between Mark and Otto. “But what about this wine business?”
    “There’s nothing to it. Just a misunderstanding. I’ll explain it later.” He looked directly at Ian Applby. “To you. When we have some privacy.”
    Mr. Applby nodded, but he didn’t look happy as Mark stomped off. Sabrina started after him, paused, looked back at us, flung her arms out into space and said, “Otto, please.”
    “Phuf,” the genius said, glared at everyone, gave his head a toss, which made his hat go wild, and stalked back toward the kitchen.
    “That man is impossible,” Mr. Applby said. “We are lucky his little diatribe was confined to this table alone.” He turned to Sabrina with an expression of grim dissatisfaction. “I hope that next time you will follow my advice.” His tone was low but it had the impact of a whip on bare flesh. Sabrina flinched, the color drained out of her face, but she said nothing. “My dear Miss Bixby,” he went on, “shall we join the others in the wine cellar? It will be very instructive to see how Mark conducts this little tour. And the tasting.”
    Ian Applby and Jolene headed for the stairs, followed closely by Carlton, the partner. Frank’s eyes were blazing, but the smile he gave Aunt Mary was bland and sunny.
    “Shall we join them? I have heard many good things about next year’s Syrah and am anxious to taste it.”
    Aunt Mary gave us a quick glance, received Dan’s slight nod and moved off with Frank, listening to his impromptu lecture on the virtues of Bordeaux wines.
    “Otto’s going to get us fired, I just know it,” Sabrina said. “Why, why didn’t I listen to Mr. Applby? And everyone else who said he was awful? The article in Food and Wine raved about him. When I heard he was here, in Santa Louisa, I was thrilled. Temperamental? No problem. They’re all temperamental. Look at Frank. I had no idea I couldn’t control that vicious little humpty dumpty.”
    “Mr. Applby seems like a reasonable man,” Dan told her. “I’m sure everything is going to work out fine.”
    “Yeah?” Such cynicism would do justice to the current Middle East peace negotiator. “I’d better get back to the kitchen. All these tables have to be reset and Mark’s barrel tasting won’t last long.”
    Sabrina hurried off.
    Neither of us said anything for a moment.
    “I thought you promised me a fun evening,” Dan finally said.
    “It’s had its moments,” I told him a little faintly.
    “That it has. Want to go see Mark siphon wine out of barrels?”
    “Not especially. What I really want is a cup of coffee. At home. On my own front porch.”
    “With Jake in your lap?” laughed Dan. Jake, my big yellow tomcat, had a real fondness for laps.
    “He’s more likely to be in yours,” I sighed. “As long as Mark and Sabrina’s poodle is around, he won’t be in either of our laps.”
    “Paris is a good dog, but Jake sure does hate him. That reminds me. Any word on Mark and Sabrina’s house hunting? Not that I mind them being there, of course,” he said hastily.
    “Sir,” I told him with mock seriousness, “I think I have good news. Come on, let’s go downstairs, and I’ll fill you in on the latest.”
    We slowly descended the stairs to be met with the coolness of the cellar floor and the yeasty richness of fermenting wine. There was a low murmur of voices, a laugh loud in the cavernous space. Someone handed us each a glass with about a swallow of ruby red wine.
    “This cabernet sauvignon is only two years old, but what a nose it has. Here, try it.”
    I