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I wait for her to ask for an address, family history, and a reason for investigating her employer, but she continues without any of it.

“I have your names. I’ll confirm the change and make sure you’re on the reception list before Saturday. Please bring the invitation with you when you arrive,” she says.

“That’s all you need?” The question leaves me before Birdie can stop it.

Tessa laughs, not unkindly. “Unless you plan to purchase the winery during your visit, I think your names will do for now.”

Her humor surprises me. I imagined Andrei’s assistant as a severe woman who screens calls from people begging for mercy, but Tessa sounds as if she owns colorful mugs and remembers birthdays.

“The gates open at five thirty, and the tasting begins at six,” Tessa continues. “There will be signs directing you to the event pavilion and attendants near the guest parking area.”

Birdie studies the invitation. “How formal is this? The card says cocktail attire, which can mean anything between a nice dress and a small collection of diamonds.”

“A nice dress is perfect, and diamonds are optional. The event includes a vineyard tour, so I recommend shoes that can handle stone paths and grass,” Tessa adds. “If you stay outdoors after sunset, bring a jacket because the temperature drops near the foothills.”

Her patience gives me an opening, and curiosity moves through it before caution can close the door. “Will Mr. Dragorin be there?”

Birdie gives me a warning look.

“Yes,” Tessa answers. “Mr. Dragorin hosts the tasting and speaks during the reserve presentation. Is there a message you’d like me to give him?”

“No, I was only curious.” The answer comes too quickly, and I slow down before adding, “Connor mentioned the vineyard, so I wondered whether he knew Mr. Dragorin personally.”

Silence lasts for less than a breath, though I notice it because I’m searching for any reaction. “I’m not familiar with all of Mr. Dragorin’s banking contacts,” Tessa says. Her voice remains pleasant, but the answer has gained a professional edge. “Would you like me to check?”

If she asks Andrei about Connor before Saturday, he might refuse to admit us or prepare a story. “No, that’s not necessary. We can ask Connor when he’s available.”

Birdie closes her eyes at my word choice, and I know she hears how carefully I avoid saying when we see him.

“Of course,” Tessa replies. “Will you need overnight accommodations? Our estate villas are reserved for visiting partners this weekend, but I can send you a list of nearby hotels.”

“We’re driving to Aldermere afterward,” Birdie says. “It’s close enough if Cassie winds up drinking too much wine.”

Tessa laughs. “I’ll make a note that you aren’t staying. If your plans change, our staff can help you find a room in Ember Ridge.”

Birdie looks at me and raises her eyebrows. I have at least twelve questions, but none can be asked without announcing that we are using a missing man’s invitation to investigate her boss.

“Thank you,” Birdie says before I can choose the least suspicious one. “You’ve been very helpful.”

“We’ll see you Saturday evening.”

After the call ends, Birdie studies me. “You almost asked whether Andrei has ever made an employee disappear.”

I run my fingers over the raised crest. “Tessa doesn’t sound afraid of him.”

“Neither did Linda,” Birdie says, shrugging. “She said he was polite and concerned. Marisol said Connor didn’t appear afraid of him either.”

“Are you trying to remove our only suspect before we meet him?”

“I’m trying to prevent you from accusing him of murder beside the cheese table.”

“Connor is missing, not dead.” The correction comes out sharper than Birdie deserves, but I can’t allow that other word to occupy the room. “We don’t know that anyone hurt him.”

Her expression softens. “You’re right, and I’m sorry.”

Murphy steps onto the table and puts one paw on the invitation. I move it before he can add claw marks while Birdie establishes rules against locked rooms, stolen records, and wine-inspired trespassing.

“That sounds restrictive for an event called a tasting,” I tell her, earning the look that explains why she refuses to let me go alone.