Wine Cellar Secrets: A Day In The Life Of Quintessentially Wine
By: Quintessentially Wine
Tags: Fiction, Short Story, Wine

Wine Cellar Secrets: A Day In The Life Of Quintessentially Wine

Chapter Eight: A Suspect

“Do come in, Inspector. I always make it a point of principle to make myself available to the constabulary whenever they come calling.”

Tinnion’s eyebrows raised, and he couldn’t entirely hide the brief smile that passed across his face. “You have a lot of experience with the police, do you, Ms Wellington?”

Amanda Wellington chuckled, and she motioned for the detective to sit down opposite her, across the desk in her office.

“Not much,” she said, “but as Collections Manager, I occasionally get approached by your brothers in blue to be asked questions about particular wines. It’s usually to give valuations if there has been a theft. I’m considered something of an expert.”

Tinnion hid his exasperation well; they had so far met a grand total of two times, and Wellington had mentioned that she was Collections Manager on both occasions. The detective was never a great one for ego and titles — indeed, he hardly ever bothered introducing himself as an inspector, and much preferred to be judged on his own personal merits — but he was intrigued by Wellington’s strange desire to be known as the main Collections Manager. It was like she was keen to remind him that she managed the overwhelming majority of Quintessentially’s wine and resources.

“So, how long have you been here?” he asked, choosing his words with care.

“Just over a year,” she replied promptly. “I was recruited by the CEO himself.”

More status, Tinnion thought disparagingly. A dislike of this woman was growing in the pit of his stomach even before he had managed to steer this conversation down whatever path it was going to take. He knew that he needed to take that emotion firmly under control, however, as he didn’t want to start making assumptions about anything that could end up skewing the investigation.

“Did you know before taking the job that another Collections Manager was already in place?” he asked. He wasn’t surprised to see a scowl fly across her face before quickly vanishing again. She clearly wasn’t as good as hiding her emotions as she would have liked.

“No,” she said smoothly, as if the irritation hadn’t happened. “I found out on my first day when Adam introduced himself.”

“How did that make you feel, knowing that had been kept from you?”

Wellington hesitated for a moment, seeming to think about it before speaking. “Well, I was surprised, certainly. I -” She blinked and then frowned as a thought seemed to occur to her. “I’m a suspect,” she said slowly. “My word, you actually suspect me, don’t you?”

“Where were you between 1am and 1.30am this morning, Ms Wellington?”

“At home, in bed … asleep.”

“Can anyone verify that claim?”

“I live alone, Detective.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Wellington’s jaw set in an angry line. “No,” she snapped abruptly. “I was in bed by myself.”

“Well, those are the pleasantries,” Tinnion said in an altogether more cheerful tone, flashing his most charming smile. “Now that they’re out the way, let’s move on. Everyone is a suspect, irrespective of where they were at the time of the theft.”

“I see your point,” Wellington said, “except for one fatal flaw in your logic, Inspector. I still don’t have the foggiest idea what the theft entails. To this day, I don’t know what Adam is curating down in that dungeon of his.”

“You make a good point,” Tinnion noted. “Thank you explaining your ignorance about the collection so cogently.”

Wellington suddenly smiled, the anger of a moment ago seemingly forgotten; she had obviously decided to tune out his sarcasm.

“You remind me of Columbo,” she said quietly. “I’m expecting you to say ‘One more thing …’ any minute now.”

“The day I hit that stereotype,” Tinnion said, continuing to return the smile, “is the day I need to hang up my badge for good.”

There was a silence between the two of them for a moment that was surprisingly companionable, and Tinnion was intrigued to know what Wellington would say next. He had found silence to be a very useful trick from time to time, as most people were uncomfortable with a lack of sound and rushed to fill it. A lot of time, what they filled it with was the verbal equivalent of white noise; generalised babble, small talk and chatter, just to keep the noise level going, but occasionally — just occasionally — they would give something away. It might just be a Freudian slip or a thoughtless, throw-away remark, but that could be incredibly telling.

Sadly, Wellington wasn’t one of them; people who were comfortable with silence between themselves and a stranger were rare, but she was one of them and Tinnion was impressed. He mentally cursed; he had been hoping for something more. The old adage of being innocent until proven guilty wasn’t something he believed in, but he was making assumptions here without any proof — and trying to tease out information that might not even exist.

Wellington shifted her weight to lean her right arm on one of the chair arms, and smiled serenely at him. Tinnion decided to drop the act; it clearly wasn’t working, and he could well have been overanalysing the situation anyway — there were situations when suspecting everyone simply wasn’t the right course of action. Now, he needed to focus on questioning everyone else; in particular, Mr Collins, the security guard. He was someone that could well know more; he had spent so much time just outside the vault door that he must had picked some useful snippets of information up.

“Well,” he said in as polite and calm a tone as he possibly could, pretending that the last two minutes of carefully gauged silence hadn’t happened, “thank you for talking to me, Ms Wellington. It’s been a pleasure.”

“I’m sure it has,” she said with a self-deprecating smile. “I hope I’ve been of some help.”

Tinnion nodded. “It’s always useful to be able to rule people out,” he said.

…stayed tuned, Chapter Nine: ‘Down To The Station’ is only a day away. If you are enjoying this series then please follow Quintessentially Wine.