Corked by Cabernet by Michele Scott Page A

country or she was asleep. She might have taken a sleep aid.
    The room faced rows of Chardonnay grapes set on rolling hills, but tonight what Nikki noticed was the silence. Really noticed it. Sure, this location was always silent. It was the wine country. But it was the witching hour and dark, really dark. She should have grabbed Ollie before doing this. Just as she’d freaked herself out and was turning to hike back down the stairs, the door cracked and Nikki practically jumped out of her skin while trying to hang on to the hot carafe. This was why she’d never make a real detective—she knew how to wind herself up to the point that fear took over.
    Her nerves settling, Nikki faced Mrs. Yamimoto, whose ivory face was tear and mascara stained. “Mrs. Yamimoto. I am so sorry to bother you. I brought you some tea.” She held out the carafe.
    The woman shook her head. “No. No.”
    “I understand. You don’t want the tea. I’ll leave you alone.” This had been a stupid and insensitive idea.
    The woman took hold of Nikki’s sleeve and then bowed. Nikki did her best to bow back and then say good night. “I can leave the tea with you, Mrs. Yamimoto.”
    “No, no.”
    “Okay. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”
    Again the woman grabbed her sleeve. Did she want her to stay or go? “Do you speak English?”
    “No English. No Mrs. Yamimoto.”
    “Huh?”
    She motioned Nikki into the room. She followed, set the tea down on the console where the hotel daily replaced both wineglasses and coffee mugs. She held up the carafe and Mrs. Yamimoto nodded. Nikki poured the tea and handed her the first cup, then motioned for them to sit down in two cushy, velvet-covered chairs in front of the fireplace.
    “I can turn that on for you if you’d like,” Nikki said, a little louder and slower than normal, thinking maybe somehow the translation would get across. She realized by the look on the woman’s face that she wasn’t registering it. Nikki took it upon herself to light the gas fireplace and do it so that Mrs. Yamimoto could see for herself how to do it, for future reference. It was chilly in the room and even the warm earth tones on the walls seemed cooler than usual.
    The recently widowed woman bowed at Nikki again. They both sat down. Now what?
    Nikki made a gesture and touched the woman’s hand. “Mrs. Yamimoto, I am so sorry.”
    She frowned. “No. No Mrs. Yamimoto.” She pointed to herself. “Mizuki.”
    Nikki pointed back at her. “Mizuki?”
    She smiled. “Mizuki.”
    That was nice of her to want Nikki to call her by her first name. “Mizuki, I am so sorry for your loss.” How in the world was she going to talk to this woman, especially get any information out of her? “Have the police talked to you at all?”
    Mizuki cocked her head.
    Nikki made her fingers into imaginary guns. “Bang, bang. Police.”
    “Oh, bang, bang. No.”
    “Yeah, well,” Nicky struggled for something to say. She took a sip of her tea and stood. “I just wanted to bring you the tea.” She pointed to Mizuki’s mug. “Good night.”
    Mizuki stood and held out her hand. “No. Uh.” She brought her hands up to her face as if she were searching for the words. “Jen.”
    “Jen? What?”
    “Jen. Jen. Sierra.”
    “Sierra?” Now that caught Nikki’s attention and Mizuki had said it loud and clear. “Sierra Sansi?”
    Mizuki nodded.
    “Jen? Who is Jen?”
    Mizuki held out both hands and waved them at Nikki. With frenetic movements, she opened up a laptop on the desk and motioned for Nikki to come over. She did. It took a couple of minutes for the laptop to warm up. Jen? What was she trying to say?
    Once the computer was on, Mizuki opened a file of photos and clicked through several. Most of them were of Iwao in different locales, a few of them were of Mizuki. And then there were a couple of Iwao with a handsome young man. He had an athletic build, high checkbones, dark hair, and had to be related to Iwao because there was