I thought carefully.
During the main course, I’d noticed Celeste’s personal assistant, a young woman named Lydia, standing near the service station.
She’d been waiting for Celeste to finish a telephone call.
At one point, she’d moved behind the decorative screen separating the dining room from the service corridor.
I hadn’t considered it important.
People came and went constantly during private functions.
“I saw Mrs. Rinaldi’s assistant near the station earlier,” I said. “But I didn’t see her touch the bottle.”
Dominic nodded.
“Thank you for making that distinction.”
Celeste stared at me.
“You’re lying.”
“No, ma’am.”
“You’ve been spying on us all evening!”
I looked toward Mr. Harlan.
He remained beside the service station.
Dominic spoke before I could answer.
“Celeste, enough.”
She turned toward him.
“You’d rather believe a waitress than your own wife?”
“I’d rather know what happened.”
A few minutes later, uniformed officers arrived with additional personnel to handle the potentially contaminated item.
A medical team was called as a precaution because nobody yet knew whether any wine from that bottle had been consumed.
Fortunately, Antoine had stopped service before pouring it for Dominic.
The other guests had been drinking from different bottles.
Nobody reported symptoms.
The private dining room was closed while investigators documented the scene.
Celeste left with her attorney after providing contact information.
Arthur Keene also departed after being questioned.
Brenda Shaw remained long enough to identify the business documents discussed that evening.
I gave a statement describing the Italian annotation, the argument, and what I’d observed near the wine station.
