Judy Nedry's (pinot) noir mystery (A Q&A/Excerpt)

Photo source: www.judynedry.com

Pop the cork! Today, Hartford Books Examiner toasts author Judy Nedry, whose debut novel, An Unholy Alliance, is now available.

The first in the Oregon Wine Country Mysteries, An Unholy Alliance introduces protagonist Emma Golden. A recovering alcoholic, Emma accepts a much-needed advance to write a book about local wines—a topic she once covered as a journalist. It’s a dangerous cocktail of circumstances, then, when a friend invites Emma to mind her Oregon Bed & Breakfast while out of town. Emma accepts, viewing the proposition as the perfect opportunity to earn some cash while doing research for her book. But murder and mayhem ensue, with a body turning up dead in a vat of fermenting pinot noir at a local winery. Further complicating matters is the growing list of suspects—including Emma’s verbally abusive ex-husband. When a second body is discovered, Emma finds herself further invested in the investigation out of a sense of obligation to the victim. And the closer she comes to discovering the truth, the more of a threat she becomes to a desperate killer who will do anything to remain undetected...

Author Judy Nedry, who received her BA in journalism from the University of Oregon, purchased vineyard property in Oregon’s Willamette Valley in 1980 with the goal of starting winery. Six years later, after writing many articles about the promising new local industry, she was considered a regional authority on wine in the Northwest. In the following years, she and her family would plant a vineyard outside Newberg, Oregon and move from Portland to be close to it, and, in 1987, Judy co-founded Northwest Palate magazine, which she edited for seven years while continuing to write freelance for wine publications throughout the world. She also authored the non-fiction titles Oregon Wine Country and Washington Wine Country, which were published by Graphic Arts Publishing in Portland. Her first foray into fiction, An Unholy Alliance is written with the trademark knowledge of an insider and promises to go down easy.

Recently, Ms. Nedry took the time to answer a few questions about her new book (signed copies can be purchased through the author's web-site)…

1) AN UNHOLY ALLIANCE is the first book in the Oregon Wine Country Mysteries. I'm assuming the writing process required extensive research on your part. Just how much wine did you have to sample to feel comfortable that you were doing the story justice?

Wine research is not a cerebral activity. Twenty years of wine writing, judging, etc. DO THE MATH.

2) Your web-site boasts one of the most memorable book teasers of recent memory: Finding Ted floating in a vat of fermenting pinot noir with his trousers bunched around his ankles was not exactly Emma Golden's idea of an easy writing assignment. Did you find it difficult to live up to such an ingenious premise?

Given the character and the circumstances, no. I have lived long enough to realize that humans are capable of just about anything. The more bizarre, the more likely it is to be real and true. In the novel, Emma is researching a book she's writing about Oregon wineries...Ted was one of her less appealing subjects. So his ending up where he did actually made part of her assignment easier. If that makes sense. You kinda need to read the book to get it.

3) Given your history, you must get this all the time (but I'm still going to ask): How much of Emma is a reflection of you? And if you could possess one quality of hers that you don't have, which would it be and why?

This may be presumptuous, but I think that in most fiction there is a sort of reflection between the main character, or even many of the characters, and the writer. I found that a lot of Emma’s and my attitudes overlap, we have a similar world view. We're tired of the bullshit. Some days we're just plain TIRED. So she can be a little snarky at times. She has some similar background. My wine writing background gave me entree to that world, and writing about it as an insider. That said, she is not me. She is more temperamental and emotional. I wish sometimes that I could cry like she does. We're both very nosy.

***

And here is an excerpt from Chapter 2 of An Unholy Alliance (Copyright Judy Nedry, 2009):

When we arrived at Tina’s an hour later, the first person I saw was my ex-husband Dwight McCourt. He was sitting on a bar stool eating a salmon filet, a bottle of StoneGate Reserve Pinot Noir at his left elbow. Dwight was notorious for showing up at a restaurant with his own wine. His wine glass was half-full, or half-empty, depending upon how you choose to look at it.

He nodded in our direction, sizing up the entourage. “Hi Emmy, long time no see,” he drawled when his inventory was complete. I walked over to him and we exchanged a half-hearted little hug. It always felt weird, but we did it anyway. We get along most of the time. I really do like the guy despite the things we’ve both pulled over the years. Dwight is big and burly, and I noticed during that quick hug that he had gotten a bit burlier around the midriff. Things were starting to sag a little here and there, but sagging is an equal opportunity nuisance to those of us in our late prime. His red hair and beard showed flecks of silver and his eyebrows had grown very bushy, giving him a fiercer than normal look. He had gotten himself a good haircut, and the beard was neatly trimmed. He was still a very handsome man.

“What brings you to wine country?” he asked.

“I’m running the Westerly for Melody and Dan while they are on vacation,” I told him. “And I’m writing a book.”

“It’s about time!” he said, and his enthusiasm was real. “When’s the deadline?”

“February, and it will be out by next November.”

I introduced Frank and Henry. A large group of people came in the door behind us and it was time to move out of the way. “I need to talk to you for the book,” I told him. “And by the way, do you know Ted Maxell?”

“Of course I know him,” Dwight sputtered. “He tried to steal a couple acres of my North Ridge property. He’s an asshole. Ask anyone.” He paused for breath, then jerked his head in the direction of the new arrivals. “That’s him talking to Jake,” he said just loudly enough that only I could hear him. “The fat bastard.” I looked in the direction of Jake, the host, to see him addressing a stout man with a great mane of white hair. Ted Maxell was talking emphatically and gesturing with his hands.

Jake said something to him, then picked up menus and motioned to us. “Thanks for the heads up,” I said to Dwight, then followed Jake and the boys into the dining room.

Henry and Frank were consummate entertainers, keeping my glass topped with Perrier and regaling me with gossip and tales from the City. We barely could hear each other due to the din the Maxell party created in the small dining room. I watched enviously every time one of the wait staff delivered a bottle of wine to their table. Ted Maxell was sparing no expense to impress whoever his guests were.

The blonde sitting next to him was at least a generation younger than everyone else in the group. I would have guessed she was his daughter except for the fact that she wore an enormous diamond and was great with child. And he kept kissing her on the neck. Once I caught her shudder and pull away from him, but for the most part she sat stiffly at his side, a bright smile on her face.

Henry intercepted my observation and touched my arm. “That’s his wife, Tara,” he said, leaning into me so only I could hear. “Ted married his granddaughter.”

I chuckled and allowed myself the luxury of feeling mean. Ted appeared to be in his mid-fifties, while Tara was probably early-twenties. “She may look like a cream puff, but she has some street smarts,” Henry continued. “She wanted to marry money and she did. One of my former lovers is her financial adviser. She wants to be well taken care of down the line when beauty fleets, as it always does, alas.”

Interestinger and interestinger. This was not the kind of information I could put in the book, but tasty nonetheless. “I hope your friend does a good job for her,” I said.

“Oh, he does.”

“And the ta-tas are not her own. I know the guy who did them,” Frank chimed in. These two were a fountain of information. Henry busied himself with his duck breast in green peppercorn sauce, but he wasn’t missing out on the conversation. An amused smile played at the corners of his mouth.

I observed that Tara was in dire peril of bursting the part of her cocktail dress that held her enhanced breasts in bondage.

“What don’t you know about the Maxells?” I wondered between mouthfuls of salmon.

“Well,” Frank continued, “we know that Ted’s kids had a fit when he brought this one home. His daughter Tiffany is the same age as Tara, and Axel is only a couple years older.”

“Axel? Axel Maxell? That’s his son”

“It is.”

“What were those people thinking?”
“Ted liked the name. And he does have his funny side.”

I looked again at the table. Ted was leaning back in his chair, head tilted back, laughing. His hands were splayed across his large belly; his face had turned very red. He looked as if he might burst something before his wife did. A blood vessel perhaps. His lips were full and sensuous. At one time he would have been an attractive man. But now he was not. Age and dissipation were taking their toll. I glanced toward the bar in time to see Dwight get up, toss some cash next to his half-finished bottle of wine, and walk out the door.

“Where’s the ex-wife and mother of Ted’s children?” I wondered this for no particular reason save nosiness. Writers are the nosiest people on earth. We clamor for details whether the details matter or not.

“Oh, she still lives in the Bay Area part of the year, but she has a place up here so she can be near the kids. They both work for Ted, poor things,” Henry said between bites of duck. “We knew them when.”

“So he’s got the whole damn family, past, present, and future, very close at hand.”

“Yes,” Frank observed. “It’s thoroughly nauseating. All of it. You’d think after the things he’s done they’d want to be as far from him as possible.”

“And what has he done?” I was dying to know.

“Oh, you’ll find out, darling.” Frank patted my hand and took another sip of his wine. “Not to worry. You’ll find out.”

***

For those of you who think that you have what it takes to solve a murder, you can follow the author @JudyNedry on Twitter, where she is currently running a contest to give away a copy of An Unholy Alliance to the person that can solve the crime in thirty clues. You can also visit Judy on her web-site—and don’t forget that signed copies of the book can be purchased there. Cheers!