Page 90 of Christmas Mittens Murder

“Oh good. Wednesday is my easiest night to get out.”

“I’m sorry if you tried us last week. I had a family emergency to deal with and had to close at five.” He frowned. “It’s too bad. I might have . . . well, never mind.”

Maybe he didn’t want to bring up Val’s homicide and what he might have seen or been able to stop. I had no such compunctions.

“It’s terrible about that poor woman’s murder, isn’t it?” I asked.

“Oh my, yes, and it happened right outside,” he said. “I hope the sheriff solves it soon.”

“I suppose they’ve been around asking for security cam footage?”

“We don’t have a camera, more’s the pity,” he said. “Several of us have been asking the complex manager for one, but it hasn’t happened yet.”

The manager being Otto. Maybe he had a reason for failing to mount cameras.

“Too bad,” I said.

He glanced around and lowered his voice. “Frankly, ma’am, it’s been bad for business. The authorities made us stay closed Thursday all day and yesterday until midafternoon. Places like this make the bulk of our annual income from holiday spending. One day off can be a disaster.”

“I hope it’s resolved soon, and good luck with your sales. I have to go now, but I’ll be back to shop.”

“We appreciate the business. You have a good night, ma’am.”

When I stepped outside, rain was falling. Cam stood under her umbrella next to the bocce court. I flipped my umbrella open and joined her.

“Acorn Fine Art was closed last Wednesday evening,” she said.

“So was the bookstore.” I gazed at the court and shivered again, from the cold as much as by the ghostly mental image of Val’s demise. “How about that drink?”

Chapter Twenty-one

“Hey, ladies, come on in.” Mooncat smiled from behind the Vino y Vida bar.

The place was warm, dry, and hopping, full of sippers and tasters. Nearly every seat was full, probably because the tables on the terrace were now being rained on. But it was also a Saturday night kicking off a holiday week.

Mooncat pointed to the only two empty stools at the bar. “Better grab these while you can.”

“Thanks,” Cam said.

We grabbed them. I furled my compact umbrella and let it languish on the floor at my feet. Cam leaned her noncollapsible loaner from Allie against the end of the bar.

“You two met this morning at the fair.” I caught myself before I tried to introduce them twice in one day. “Did you sell out of mittens, Mooncat?”

“I did.” She gestured at the blackboard on the wall behind the bar. “What can I get you to drink tonight?”

In addition to a cabernet sauvignon and a pinot grigio, the list included a Gewürztraminer, two dessert wines, and a port.

“Do you switch to sweeter offerings in the evening?” I asked Mooncat.

“We do.” She kept her hands busy as she waited for us to order, swiping the counter, putting glasses in a rack presumably headed for a dishwasher, and straightening a napkin holder. “People seem to prefer those after dinner.”

“I’d like a glass of the Gewürztraminer, please,” I said.

“For me the pinot grigio,” Cam said. “I’m not into sweet wines at all.”

Mooncat poured before bustling off to help others. As the lone employee in the wine bar tonight, she wore all the hats. It had to be stressful.

“Cheers.” Cam held up her glass.

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