Merlot Murder

On the countertop, a shattered wine glass slowly drips its rich, velvety contents onto the white oak flooring. Its fragmented pieces positioned like rocks in a stream, guiding the flow of the ruby red liquid to its endpoint. Drop after drop, the Merlot puddle continues to form, a stark contrast against the light wood. Its bold flavors of cherry and blackberry merging with the citrusy scent of the floor cleaner. Nearby, a figure lies haphazardly, slowly creating its own pool of Merlot with soft notes of iron. The figure’s thick chestnut hair is strewn across its face, and a glowing smartphone brightly displaying the numbers 9-1 rests in its limp hand.

***

“Breathe in, breathe out … breathe in, breathe out,” Olivia quietly whispers to herself, attempting to wipe her clammy palms on the legs of her pants. She takes a lengthy sip of her cabernet sauvignon, and replaces the now empty glass on the countertop. The earthy notes of pepper and chocolate gently enliven her taste buds, but unfortunately do little to calm her nerves.

The steady sound of the knife hitting the cutting board abruptly stops, and Alexander’s dark eyes gaze up towards Olivia. There is a moment of silence as his gaze slowly travels over her body, taking everything in. Her clenched fist on the stem of the wine glass. Her inability to keep her leg from trembling. And her rigid upper-body posture.

Panic spreads throughout Alexander’s body, and his grip instinctively tightens around the handle of the knife. He quickly begins analyzing his behavior throughout the evening. Was my decision to prepare dinner instead of dining at a restaurant too intimate for a first date? Does she feel uncomfortable being alone with me? Have I accidentally revealed something I should not have?

Alexander pushes his intrusive thoughts aside, and questions, “Are you ok, Olivia? I understand this is a new experience for both of us. If you feel uncomfortable, that’s completely understandable.”

A new experience for both of us? Olivia ponders. From Alexander’s tone and choice of words, Olivia can sense that his nerves are elevated tonight, as well. Interesting, thinks Olivia. He’s acting differently than I expected he would.

“Yes, I’m ok,” Olivia finally responds, shifting on the stiff, wooden barstool. “Like you said, this is a new experience for both of us.”

While her answer is brief, it satisfies Alexander, and he resumes chopping the starchy vegetables, the milky residue from the potatoes coating the blade of the knife. That’s a relief, he thinks, it’s simply first-date nerves.

Upon noticing Olivia’s empty wine glass, Alexander suggests, “If you would like another glass, there’s a vintage merlot from the Republic of Moldova on the wine rack behind me. It has incredible aromas of cherry, blackberry, and subtle hints of vanilla.”

“I didn’t know you were a wine connoisseur,” Olivia jokes, secretly impressed by his knowledge of the wine’s flavor profile. Yet another attribute I didn’t expect. “Another glass would be great, but you must have one with me. It’s boring drinking alone.” Attempting to make this proposition more alluring, she gently slides her fingers along the fine stem of the empty wine glass, hoping the slight tremble in her hand goes unnoticed.

Alexander tenses at this suggestion, his gaze following the slow, sultry movement of her fingers. Despite her anxiety this evening, her appeal is undeniable, Alexander reflects. Once again, his grip tightens around the handle of the knife. Originally, Alexander had planned to remain sober this evening. When drinking, he can become sloppy, and he could not afford any sloppiness tonight. However, he thought, refusing a glass of wine would appear suspicious. Also, who can resist such a tempting offer?

“Of course,” Alexander responds, bringing his gaze upwards to meet Olivia’s warm, intense eyes.

“Wonderful,” says Olivia, grinning. “Since you’ve kindly offered to prepare dinner, I can pour the wine.”

Alexander nods his head in agreement, creating movement within his long, coarse hair, and returns his focus to the wooden chopping board.

Sliding off the stiff barstool with the empty wine glass in hand, Olivia slowly approaches the wine rack. “Where can I find the other glasses and the corkscrew?”

“In the cupboard above the wine rack,” Alexander replies as he lays the milky knife beside the cutting board and withdraws a large ceramic baking dish from the drawer below.

“I've found the wine glasses, but I can’t find the corkscrew,” says Olivia. She sustains her view towards the contents of the cupboard, avoiding meeting Alexander’s gaze.

A loud notification alert blares, and both Alexander’s and Olivia’s eyes swiftly focus on his cellphone which lays face-down on the countertop beside the cutting board. Shit, he thinks. How could I forget to put my phone on silent?

Attempting to shift the focus from his cellphone, Alexander quickly responds, “I may have loaned it to a friend, and forgotten.”

“That’s ok. I’m somewhat of a wine connoisseur myself,” says Oliva playfully. “I never leave the house without a corkscrew. Could you please pass my purse to me?”

Alexander releases his hold on the baking dish, reaches over and grasps the inky black handbag laying on the countertop. Inspecting the handbag as he passes it to Olivia, he notices that it has a substantial weight to it.

“It seems like you never leave the house without a lot of things,” says Alexander jokingly. A worried look flashes over Olivia’s face, and she chokes out an awkward chuckle. Bad joke? Alexander questions, turning back to the countertop.

With Alexander’s back turned, Olivia quietly fumbles in her purse, for the items she requires. I may have overpacked, she thinks as she struggles to locate the objects among the clutter. But, it is always better to be over-prepared than under-prepared, she reasons.

Another blaring alert sounds from Alexander’s cellphone, and he speedily snatches it from the countertop. Displaying on the screen are two messages: “Hi babe, I haven't heard from you all evening. Is everything ok?” and “Babe? Did I do something to upset you?” Alexander quietly scoffs. I told her that I was going to be busy tonight. Why does she always have to be so overbearing?

Peeking over his shoulder to ensure that Olivia is still occupied, Alexander hastily texts: “I’ve already told you that I’m busy tonight.” He silences his phone, and places it in the pocket of his stiff denim jeans.

Olivia returns to the kitchen island with the wine glasses in hand, and carefully extends a glass to Alexander. Frustrated by the overbearingness of the text messages, he rushes to take a sip of the Merlot.

“Stop!” Olivia exclaims.

Alexander jerks, sending a drop of red liquid flying to the floor.

“Sorry for shocking you,” Olivia expresses, “but a wine connoisseur like yourself must know that you should aerate your wine before drinking it.” She begins to move her wrist in a circular motion, creating a swirl within her wine glass.

“Of course. Thank you for the reminder,” Alexander responds, mirroring her movement.

After a few moments of swirling, Alexander and Olivia bring their wine glasses together, creating a sharp clink. Alexander hurriedly takes a sip, exhaling in pleasure as the bright flavors tantalize his taste buds. Olivia hesitates, and closely examines the contents of the glass before taking a sip.

“You were right, this wine is incredible," Olivia says as she unsuccessfully attempts to catch Alexander’s gaze.

“As a wine connoisseur, I am rarely wrong about these things,” he teases. He takes another substantial sip of the wine, attempting to analyze the flavor profile. “However, I don’t recall this wine being this strong.” Alexander rapidly blinks, trying to maintain his focus. Disregarding this momentary lapse in concentration, he resumes preparing dinner and transfers the diced potatoes into the baking dish.

Olivia notices a few pieces of potato falling to the floor instead of the inside of the baking dish. “Can I be of any assistance?” she asks, stepping closer towards Alexander. She breathes in his aroma of subtle woodsy cologne.

“That would be great,” replies Alexander, fighting the urge to yawn. Why am I suddenly tired? He takes another sip of wine to refresh himself.

Alexander carefully takes hold of the baking dish and turns towards Olivia. “Could you place this in the oven? It should … sorry ... it should be preheated to 375 deg...” The baking dish slips out of Alexander’s loose hands, and Olivia swiftly catches it before it reaches the floor.

All of the tension and anxiety that Olivia was experiencing dissipates at this. Perfect, she thinks.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it,” Olivia states as she approaches the oven with the baking dish. Upon opening the oven door, a wave of heat hits her face and her eyes water slightly. As she is placing the baking dish inside, she slyly questions, “So, does Lindsay like Merlot, as well?

Alexander’s body tenses. How does she know about Lindsay? Hoping to relieve his sudden tension, he reaches towards his wine glass for another sip, but his dexterity fails him. Alexander accidentally knocks over the wine glass, and it shatters on the countertop. He quickly turns to get some paper towels to clean the mess he created, and in the corner of his eye, he notices the open oven door. Scanning the kitchen for Olivia, he notices that she is by the wine rack retrieving an object from her purse. She slowly withdraws a short, solid piece of metal, and before Alexander can react, it connects with the side of his skull. A sharp pain erupts from his head, and with his balance failing him, he falls to the floor. Straining to maintain his focus and adequately control his muscles, he fumbles in his pocket for his phone. Alexander painstakingly begins to type 9…, his vision starts to blur, 1…, and everything goes black.

On the countertop, the shattered wine glass slowly drips its rich, velvety contents onto the white oak flooring. Its fragmented pieces positioned like rocks in a stream, guiding the flow of the ruby red liquid to its endpoint. Drop after drop, the Merlot puddle continues to form, a stark contrast against the light wood. Its bold flavors of cherry and blackberry merging with the citrusy scent of the floor cleaner. Nearby, Alexander’s figure lies haphazardly, slowly creating its own pool of Merlot with soft notes of iron. His thick chestnut hair is strewn across his face, and his glowing smartphone brightly displaying the numbers 9-1 rests in his limp hand.

Olivia forcefully kicks the phone from Alexander’s hand. “Nice try,” she scoffs. As she stands over his limp body, a brief flashback intrudes her mind containing images of her previous partner, George, laying in bed with his young secretary. Fighting back tears, Olivia harshly whispers to herself, “No tears. You are stronger than that. Look at what you’ve just accomplished. You’ve saved another unsuspecting woman from suffering the same fate as you.” Taking a final sip of her wine, she drops the glass to the floor, propelling sharp clear shards throughout the kitchen. She fumbles in her inky black handbag, and withdraws a small bottle of gasoline. Upon opening the bottle, she is hit with the strong scent of benzene. Olivia douses Alexander’s body in the clear liquid, and then slowly creates a line of gasoline as she walks to the front door. Retrieving a matchbox from her purse, she swiftly strikes a match, and casts it into the building. Her eyes follow the match as it ignites the line of gasoline and the flames slowly inch towards Alexander’s body. Closing the door behind her, she exhales deeply. He got what he deserved.

A soft chime sounds from Olivia’s cellphone, and she quickly retrieves it from her handbag. The glowing screen displays a text message: Can’t wait to see you tonight. XO, Sam. I can't wait either, Olivia thinks, a wide grin spreading across her face.