Napa Nights: A Virginia Davies Mystery

CHAPTER 1

Reginald slowly pulled his sword and inched toward the chamber door. He flattened against the stone wall. A stirring of the Duke’s soldiers could be heard down the hall. He moved closer to the door and listened. A soft cry emanated through the solid wood door. Reginald carefully lifted the wood latch. The door moved a hair’s breadth. No noise. The old Duke kept things well oiled, he thought. He opened the door slightly and peered inside. One guard was three feet away, his back to the door. Another soldier was next to the canopy bed, a large smile on his face.

I’m next, he stated as he removed his tunic.

On the bed, Reginald could see his Margaret. Her arms were tied to the bedposts. She was nude and squirming around, the ropes cutting into her wrists. The soldier on the bed had the shirt and insignia of a captain. His trousers and boots were on the floor near the foot of the bed.

Hold still my dear, I know you’ll enjoy this as much as I’m going to. He lowered himself on top of Margaret.

Reginald slipped into the bedchamber closing the door behind him. His sword plunged into the back of the guard near the door. The second soldier looked at him in horror. Reginald’s knife struck his chest. Red oozed out on the front of his shirt. The soldier looked at the knife and at Margaret. She was the last sight he saw before tumbling to the floor. The officer, suddenly aware of the commotion jerked up and tried to turn to pull his sword…

Who writes this stuff? Virginia asked herself out loud, closing the paperback book.

Oh, The Prince of Weedon books are great, said a voice to Virginia’s right. Prince Reginald is sooo handsome and brave! Have you read The Thief of Gladstone?

Virginia looked at the woman sitting next to her on the Alaska Airlines flight to Oakland, California. She judged her to be about fifty-five, overweight, and dressed like a leftover from the mid-fifties. Her red hair was beacon bright. An awful dye job adorned her head, clearly not the job of a licensed hairdresser.

You’ve read more of these books? asked Virginia.

Heavens yes, they’re great on a cold night. Almost any night, she said with a sigh. I just love the prince. I’ve been divorced now for almost twelve years. We don’t get younger, ya know. Men are more interested in the pretty young girls. Us experienced ones can’t compete. The prince is a comfort. You don’t like him?

Honey, loose fifty pounds, go to a gym, do something with your hair and you could find someone, Virginia thought. Especially with the D cup top you’ve got. I don’t know, this is the first romance-adventure novel I’ve read since I was a teenager. It just seems like it ought to be a late evening movie on PAY-TV. I’ll finish it tonight when I get to Napa.

The flight attendant pushed a drink cart next to their seats.

Anything to drink ladies? She looked at the book in Virginia’s lap. Before anyone could answer, she said, The Prince of Weedon, isn’t he great?

The redhead and the attendant started to discuss the book.

I’ll have some tomato juice, please, Virginia said over their conversation.

The attendant looked at her, then smiled, Of course, one tomato juice coming up. She handed the juice and a napkin to Virginia while talking to her seatmate.

Virginia turned and looked out the window at the clouds below the wing. She thought of the previous evening, when she told Andy of her trip.

It’s an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone, she stated with a big smile and searching eyes. She wanted Andy to understand.

I know, it’s great, but we had plans for next week, the dinner at the Dean’s house, and we have tickets to the Laguna Playhouse. What am I going to do with them? questioned Andy.

Dr. Andy Clark was Virginia’s boyfriend and a Professor of Mechanical Engineering at the University of California at Irvine. When Virginia started dating Andy, her girl friends couldn’t understand why someone a pretty as she would go out with a slightly balding man seven years older than her, and, he wore glasses. How could she when there were all these hunks around? Two graduate students in the Art Department were obviously in love with her. Why the prof? Virginia never answered them. She loved this nutty professor who couldn’t put together an outfit if his life depended on it.

Virginia smiled as she looked at Andy. He sat on a chair in her bedroom as she packed. His five foot ten inch frame was stretched between the chair and her bed. His stocking feet were propped up on the end of the bed across one of her home made quilts. His trademark UCI Anteaters baseball cap was perched on the back of his head. Leo, her cat lay at his feet, asleep.

Like I said, Tiger, Dr. Smithe’s memory is a lot like yours…nonexistent. Virginia smiled as she thought of William Smithe, her boss and an expert in Chumash Indians. "He remembered this conference only this morning and we spent a good part of the day making the arrangements. I can do some more hands on research on the eight original lighthouses in California for the new exhibit, and attend The American

Archeological Institute convention almost at the same time. Dr. Smithe thinks it’s a great opportunity and I can visit the lighthouses in the northern part of the state on the same trip. The museum is paying for everything. I’m sorry about the plans and tickets. This came up all of a sudden."

She tugged the zipper closing the suitcase and flipped another small bag on the bed and opened it. I feel privileged Dr. Smithe is sending me instead of another curator. And stop with the lost little boy look, it won’t work this time. You know what I’m like when I get my mind made up. And, no cracks about my mind, mister.

Andy changed his expression. He knew what a hardheaded thing she could be. His eyes followed her five-foot-six-inch frame as she walked to the dresser and opened a bottom drawer. Her shoulder length, soft blond hair fell forward as she bent over. It was shorter, now that she was working, than it had been when he dated her as a student. More professional, she told him. Lucky for him she was a History Major and not engineering, otherwise he couldn’t have started to date her. He watched her flit around the room tossing items of clothing on the bed.

He sat upright as she bent over a drawer removing various contents. Her tank top fell forward allowing him a view of her round firm thirty-eight inch breasts. This girl was centerfold material if he ever saw one, and she was his. How lucky could he get? Contrary to popular opinion, curators are not stuffy, prim or isolated eggheads. They bleed red blood and if you drop in on them unexpectedly, you’ll find them motorcycle riding, watching an R-rated movie or in Virginia’s case, making quilts.

It’ll only be for two weeks. I’ll call you from Napa. You’re still taking me to the airport tomorrow, aren’t you? Virginia asked, as she stuffed more things in her small, wheeled suitcase and closed it.

Yeah, I’m the designated driver. You’re only taking two suitcases? I’ve never known a woman who can pack for a two-week trip in just a small smuggler. Are you sick?

No. And this isn’t my only bag. The other ones are in the front room. My briefcase is out there too. Now, what would you like to do? Don’t answer that. I know what’s on your mind. The same thing that’s always on your mind, at least when you’re not hungry.Virginia reached over and pulled Andy’s hat down and skipped out of the room.

Andy threw his cap on the bed and walked out to the living room turning off the bedroom light as he exited the doorway.

He stopped. As he glanced around the room, Virginia was nowhere in sight. The front door stood ajar. Now what? Andy said under his breath, as he walked out the door and ambled down the stairs. The parking lot was devoid of life. He strolled around the edge of the building to the pool area. The May evening felt warm, especially for ten thirty. The coastal clouds hadn’t moved in due to winds off the desert. The pool area and most of the apartments were dark. A swishing sound came from the area near the Jacuzzi. Cautiously, Andy approached the four-foot hedge around the spa and peered over the top.

Did you bring some towels? asked Virginia sitting in the warm swirling water.

Andy looked at her. She smiled up at him in a wet T-shirt and blue bikini bathing suit bottoms. Her shorts and tank top were piled on a chair nearby. How was I going to bring towels when I didn’t know where you went? I should have brought my camera.

She laughed, You should know me by now Dr. Clark. Now, go get some towels, I want to make this evening special, so you’ll think of me while I’m gone.

That’s not going to be a problem. I’ll be right back.

Andy returned in his purple bathing suit with two towels. He put the towels on the chair with her clothes and climbed into the water. This feels great. Just what I needed. Don’t you think the T-shirt is a little dangerous for around here? It’s not very thick. What if someone comes down here now?

What’s gotten into you tonight? If I recall, you didn’t object to my diving this way in Mexico with you and your two buddies. And, sir, don’t forget the center-page spread of the Engineering Department magazine when we met.

He fidgeted in the water. Well.that was then. This is different somehow.

She looked at him. He was acting somewhat strange. Her trip appeared to be getting him uptight. Virginia tilted her head slightly, displayed a mischievous grin and said, Now, why don’t you slide over here so I can help you relax?

Andy moved close to Virginia and turned slightly as she started to massage his shoulders. Her hands slid down his back as she rubbed.

She leaned her head close to him and whispered in his ear, I bet I can take your mind off the subject of my trip.

Somehow I don’t think I’ll get my mind off of you tonight. Andy slid next to Virginia and kissed her. She tugged his suit off.

It’s getting late. We should call it a night. You have a big day ahead of you tomorrow. said Andy stretching. He pulled his suit on and stood up. He watched Virginia jump out of the swirling water, take off her wet T-shirt and wring it out, wrap a towel around her waist and head for her apartment. Andy hopped out of the spa and retrieved his towel. He dried off, grabbed Virginia’s clothes from the table and with water from his bathing suit slowly dripping down his legs, ambled down the short path to her apartment. As he got to the bottom of her stairs he watched her lean over the railing and wave to him then duck into the apartment.

What a tease, he thought. Someday she’s going to cause someone a heart attack or stroke, running around and sunning herself topless like she does.

Virginia jerked awake from her daydream as the flight attendant announced, Please put your seatbacks and tray tables in their upright and locked position and fasten your seat belts for our landing at Oakland Airport.

Ten minutes later Virginia scurried to baggage claim to retrieve her bags. As she headed for the rental car office, she vaguely heard; Will Ms. Virginia Davies please pick up the white courtesy telephone for a message?

She looked around. Where in the hell do they hide those things? Spotting one on the wall opposite the car rental agency, she raced to it. The operator repeated her message. Ms. Davies.

Meet me in the bar at your hotel tonight at nine.

Someone’s life may depend on it.

Damon

Now, what was that all about? She thought. And, who is Damon?

CHAPTER 2

Pushing a luggage cart piled with bags in front of her, Virginia hurried to the rental car counter. After the usual formalities, she hustled across the street to pick up her blue Pontiac Grand Am. She stuffed her suitcases in the trunk, set the seat and adjusted the mirrors and radio.

Virginia unfolded a map, placed it against the steering wheel and scowled; now I’m here and there’s Napa. How do I get to the freeway out of Oakland?

Catching the eye of an attendant, she asked for directions. Armed with instructions and green pen marks on her map, Virginia turned on the air conditioning, eased her car out of the lot and aimed for Napa. From the freeway, she could see the tops of buildings as she sped past. It seemed strange to drive on an elevated freeway. In Southern California, most of the freeways were ground level. Why would they do this in an area crisscrossed with major, active, earthquake faults? She passed Berkeley and continued north on I-80. Virginia climbed the hills north of Oakland and descended into Viejo Valley where she passed the California Maritime Academy. From here, her map directed her to California 29 and Napa. The scenery started to change from dense urban to suburbs, then to open country.

Virginia looked out at the changing scenery with a touch of nostalgia. It had been at least twelve years since she had been in the wine country. The rolling hills were dotted with live oak and green shrubbery. When she was younger, Virginia had taken part in the Scottish Highland Dance competitions at the Highland Games. At that time, the largest games in the west were the Santa Rosa games north of San Francisco. Her family would take a vacation and, after the competition, spend a week in the wine country.

She loved the vineyards, gourmet shops and the little towns with their quaint atmosphere. The roads near Napa turned into delightful curvaceous by-ways that crossed vineyards of wine grapes, fields of succulent greens, crisp apples, peaches, berries, and assorted vegetables. Remembering the games and drinking in the scenery and fragrances made the hour and a half drive go by in a flash. As she passed the Napa City Limits sign, her pulse quickened. This was her first professional convention. She remembered what Dr. Smithe told her about it. Just take notes and network. Meet people. Get lots of ideas. Enjoy the convention and the lectures, but don’t enjoy it too much, he’s paying for it.

Virginia found the Napa Inn, Spa & Convention Center without getting too lost. At least Napa is a picturesque place, she thought. She nosed her car into a parking place near the front entrance, retrieved her luggage from the trunk, and strolled into the lobby with her bags balancing precariously on their wheels behind her. Furnished like a hotel from the late eighteen hundreds, the lobby boasted plush, embroidered, cushioned chairs and sofas, heavy oak tables, and high painted ceilings with stamped zinc metal trim. The chandeliers were polished brass, reminiscent of the brass and crystal lights of old. This is fabulous, she thought. A large white sign displayed the symbol of the American Archeological Institute and the word welcome in bright red letters. Now that’s neat. I haven’t seen anything like this before. This convention, she thought, could be fun.

Virginia joined the hotel registration check in line behind a half dozen men and women of varying size, shape and descriptions. Most were older than Virginia. The line moved quickly.

Can I help you miss? asked the young clerk behind the counter.

Yes. I have a reservation. Davies, Virginia Davies.

He typed her name into the computer, stared at the monitor, then smiled. Oh, yes, here we are. We changed your room to a small suite overlooking the pool. It has a great view of the hills, too. It will be at the same rate as your original reservation.

A suite?

We had a problem earlier. One of the guests insisted that his associate stay in an adjoining room. To be honest, he was such a pest…he was difficult. We gave his assistant your room. Our manager said to upgrade your room to make up for the inconvenience at the same rate you were quoted for your original room. If that’s okay?

Yes, that’ll be fine, said Virginia as she signed the registration forms and took her key. As she was about to leave, she asked, Who was this difficult person? In case I meet him, I’ll steer clear.

Dr. James O’Brien and his wife Teresa. Next door, in your old room, is his assistant, Ms. Joan Vanderbilt. She seems somewhat reserved, but it seems important to the doctor to have her close by. He leaned forward and lowered his voice. From the look on his wife’s face, I’m not sure his wife likes Ms. Vanderbilt being so close.

Dr. O’Brien is the President of the AAI, said Virginia. And one of the principle speakers. I’ve heard that he is somewhat opinionated and arrogant. I guess the rumors were right. Thanks.

The clerk glanced over the counter at her pile of bags. Do you need help with your bags?

No thank you, responded Virginia. I can handle them.

She found the elevators and rode to the third floor. She pulled her bags behind her until she found room 316. Her suite was huge. Next to the entrance was a closet. In front of her was a living room with a balcony, a dining room, and next to it, a bathroom. A full kitchen finished the downstairs. Next to the dining room, a staircase led to a loft bedroom and second bath. There were televisions in the living room and in the bedroom. Virginia noted the phones in the living room and bedroom, but seeing the one in the upstairs bath caused a chuckle.

Virginia unpacked. She opened her cosmetic bag and pulled out her hair spray. Under it was her pepper spray. At least I’m not unprotected, she thought, as she tossed it on the bed.

She opened the patio doors and went outside. A warm breeze washed over her. She glanced around at the view. To the left she saw a spectacular view of the rolling hills painted with muted browns, greens and oak trees. On the right, the hotel formed a horseshoe around a center courtyard, pool and spa. The grass in the courtyard was a deep green with trees and a gazebo. A four-foot hedge surrounded the pool. This is the way to travel. Too bad Andy couldn’t be here. She sighed, I miss him already. She returned inside and closed the screen door.

Virginia changed into a short denim skirt and chambray blouse. She stuffed her makeup, keys, pepper spray, red spiral notebook, pens, checkbook and wallet into her leather backpack along with her registration materials. She closed up the suite and headed for the lobby to find the conference center and registration desk.

She found the registration area and presented her papers. I believe I’m registered for the convention. I was a little late getting it in, Virginia explained.

You sure are Ms. Davies. Here is your ID badge. If you’ll step down there, the woman said pointing, you can pick up your notebook, free tee shirt, and guide for the Napa region.

She picked up the tote bag with her materials and glanced through the notebook. The convention schedule, seminar abstracts, note paper, pens, and a certificate of attendance were inside along with a list of restaurants, night clubs, wineries and activities in the area. She picked a size large, white, AAI tee shirt and stuffed it into the bag.

We have a lot of these, stated the young man behind the table. Why don’t you take another.

Virginia thought he looked about eighteen or nineteen, probably an under grad some place. Okay. Thanks, she said. The fellow was wide eyed, like he’d never seen a girl before. What color do you suggest? she asked in a coy voice.

I’d pick the light blue one. It’ll look nice with your hair. He swallowed hard.

Picking up the blue AAI shirt she said, Thank you, maybe I’ll wear it down here some time so you can see if your selection was right. With a little smile, she wandered to the exhibit hall.

The vendors were completing their booth set-ups. People with blue speaker ribbons attached to their badges wandered around. The red badges must be vendors and the white ones officials, she guessed. Virginia walked to the hotel pub to relax with a glass of wine and look at the big white conference notebook.

The pub was called The Queen Legacy. She ordered a glass of Gamay Rouge wine and sat at a small table in the middle of the room. The dark wood and old English atmosphere was relaxing. This is nice, but it seems a little out of place. Shouldn’t it be an Italian or French motif? This is wine country. I don’t think Great Britain exports a hell of a lot of wine.

After her third glass of wine, she closed her notebook and called the waitress.

Where is this wine from? It’s terrific. I may want to get some before I go home.

It’s called Gamay Rouge. It’s from the V. Sattui Winery. It’s just up the road in St. Helena. Not far. It’s good, isn’t it? We get a lot of requests for it. Anything else I can help you with?

No. Just wanted to know about the wine. Thanks. She pulled out her spiral notebook and scribbled down the name of the wine and winery. Glancing around, Virginia noticed that the pub was getting crowded.

One large man, with wavy brown hair and deep blue eyes, seated two tables away was speaking to another fellow in a loud voice. O’Brien and the rest are wrong. I will show them that evolution is not the way. Genesis clearly states how the earth and all God’s creatures were formed and Adam named them! Their work is based on fossils and chunks of pottery. The Bible is clear on this, John. I must make them understand God’s Word!

Listen, Dan, I’m not sure that this is the forum for a religious debate. This is a scientific conference. The delegates won’t like it, and O’Brien ate you alive the last time you tried to use the fire and brimstone approach. Remember the stuff about it not raining until the great flood and the clouds? He shot that full of holes, said John. Anyway, Dr. O’Brien won’t put up with it. He thinks Evangelists are a fraud and full of—-

I have it on the authority of God’s Word! I can also show him to be a pompous bag of hot air. He is not saved. The evidence he has is only based on fossils and geology and I have proof of his indiscretions as well. I spoke to The Lord about this. It is in my presentation and note book! He waved a red, spiral, dog-eared notebook in the air. You’re my front man, John. Get the press. I want coverage when we blow their theory. I’m also going to show the world, and the law how that pag…Who is she? Dan’s eyes widened when he noticed Virginia.

John glanced in the direction that Dan was looking. I don’t know who she is and you better not call Dr. O’Brien a pagan. He’ll sue you for everything you’ve got and enjoy it. Anyway you need to keep your image up.

Wait until I expose the little. He turned toward Virginia. You sure you don’t know who she is?