Vines of Deceit Ta n i s Ka l Ka n Vines of Deceit A Di DeAcon Mystery Tanis Kalkan Ovi ebooks are available in Ovi/Ovi eBookshelves pages and they are for free. If somebody tries to sell you an Ovi book please contact us immediately. For details, contact: ovimagazine@yahoo.com No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior permission of the writer or the above publisher of this book An Ovi eBooks Publication 2025 Ovi eBookPublications - All material is copyright of the Ovi eBooks Publications & the writer C Vines of Deceit Vines of Deceit Tanis Kalkan A DI Deacon Mystery Tanis Kalkan An Ovi eBooks Publication 2025 Ovi eBookPublications - All material is copyright of the Ovi eBooks Publications & the writer C Vines of Deceit T he town of Valeroux could have been plucked straight from a postcard. A picturesque patch- work of terracotta rooftops, curling vines, and cobblestone streets where the only sounds were the occasional clip-clop of a horse-drawn carriage or the clink of wine glasses raised in quiet toasts. But be- neath its sun-dappled exterior, there was something far darker, a quiet tension that hung in the air like the scent of overripe grapes. As evening stretched over the valley, the golden light from the setting sun gave way to a creeping fog that rose from the earth like a slow, deliberate breath. The chill in the air had little to do with the season and everything to do with the news that was spread- ing through the town. Tanis Kalkan “Simon Devereux’s dead.” The words came in hushed whispers as townsfolk clutched their baskets tighter and exchanged nervous glances. A quiet shock rippled through the market stalls, replacing the usual hum of laughter with an uncomfortable silence. Simon Devereux. The town’s most respected wine merchant. The man whose name was synonymous with the finest Bordeaux in the region. His family’s vineyard had been the pride of Valeroux for gener- ations, and his collection of rare vintages was the stuff of legends. To lose him was to lose a piece of the town itself. And yet, it wasn’t the loss of the man that had everyone on edge it was the manner of his death. He was found in the family cellar, slumped among the barrels of his prized wine. The scene was disturb- ingly untouched: the rows of bottles gleaming un- der the soft glow of lantern light, the rich Bordeaux still sitting snugly on the racks. No theft. No signs of forced entry. Nothing out of place except for Simon’s lifeless body and the bloodstain that slowly seeped into the cool stone floor. Detective Julia Harper arrived just as the last rem- nants of light disappeared beyond the hills, leaving Vines of Deceit only the dimmest of twilight behind. She stepped out of the squad car, her boots clicking sharply against the cobblestones. In contrast to the idyllic town she’d expected, Julia felt an immediate sense of discomfort. The place felt too perfect, too still, like a painting that had been left unfinished. Her eyes narrowed as she surveyed the scene. Her hands slipped into the pockets of her coat, and she surveyed the grand stone staircase that led down into the cellar. She could hear the low murmur of the officers inside, but outside, the air was thick with an almost tangible silence. She’d dealt with murder be- fore too many times to count but there was some- thing unnervingly personal about this one. This wasn’t a botched robbery. It wasn’t some random act of violence. The untouched collection screamed one thing to her: This was something more. A tall, balding officer stepped toward her, breaking her concentration. His face was grim, his eyes shad- owed by the weight of the crime. “Detective Harp- er?” he asked, his voice a mix of nervous respect and barely-contained urgency. “That’s me.” Julia’s voice was firm, yet laced with a certain edge, a reminder that she wasn’t just some investigator on a small-town holiday. Tanis Kalkan “The body’s inside. We’ve kept the area sealed off. It’s... well, it’s a mess, ma’am.” The officer didn’t quite meet her eyes as he led her toward the cellar entrance. “Nothing was taken. Just... him. Looks like he knew his killer.” Julia raised an eyebrow, considering the implica- tions. “Is there a particular reason the killer would be someone he knew?” The officer nodded, his voice dropping to a mur- mur. “His wife... Claire Devereux. She found him.” Julia gave a slow nod, her mind already running through the possibilities. The wife was always a sus- pect, but in small towns like this, every person had a history with everyone else. Secrets, scandals, qui- et vendettas, Valeroux had them all, hidden just be- neath the surface. But who stood to gain from Simon’s death? And why leave his precious wine untouched? She followed the officer inside, her heels clicking against the stone floor, and immediately, the cool, musty air of the cellar hit her. She could taste the dampness on her tongue, the silence pressing in on her from all sides. It was like stepping into the belly of the town itself—a place where its deepest secrets were stored and, apparently, where some of them came to die. Vines of Deceit Simon Devereux’s body lay sprawled in the center of the cellar, bathed in the flickering light of the near- by lantern. He was still dressed in his fine clothing, his face pale, the expression locked in something be- tween surprise and regret. His body was positioned oddly, as though he had collapsed backward in shock. There was a dark pool of blood beneath him, seeping into the cracks of the floor, but nothing else had been disturbed. Julia crouched beside the body, noting the lack of defensive wounds, the oddly calm nature of the scene. A sharp chill ran through her spine. Simon hadn’t fought back. This wasn’t a struggle. This was... personal. “What do you think, ma’am?” The officer’s voice broke her thoughts, and she glanced up at him. He was clearly out of his depth, a town cop used to deal- ing with local squabbles and petty thefts, not a mur- der with so many unspoken layers. “I think this wasn’t a random killing.” Julia stood up, dusting off her knees and making a mental note of the surroundings. “You don’t kill a man like Simon Devereux and leave everything he loved untouched. It’s too clean. Someone wanted him gone. But they didn’t want the world to know why.” Tanis Kalkan She turned to look at the officer, her gaze steady and unreadable. “And if anyone here thinks this is going to be a quiet investigation, they’re in for a very rude awakening.” The officer nodded quickly, taking a step back. Julia moved towards the barrels, running her hand along the smooth wood. Wine. Secrets. Betrayals. She could almost taste the bitterness in the air. “So, Claire Devereux found him, huh?” Julia asked, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “She probably wasn’t too thrilled to find him like this. I assume she’s up- stairs, crying her eyes out?” The officer’s face remained serious. “You’re not far off. But she’s waiting for you, Detective. The poor woman’s been through enough.” Julia gave him a look. “Well, maybe she can shed some light on her husband’s untimely demise.” As she ascended the stairs back into the house, the weight of the investigation settled on her shoulders. It was just the beginning, and Julia Harper could al- ready feel the twisted vines of deception wrapping around her. In a town like Valeroux, where everyone knew everyone’s business, it would take a hell of a lot Vines of Deceit more than a few friendly conversations to uncover the truth. And, judging by the look on Claire Devereux’s face when Julia entered the room, it was clear this was no ordinary case. Tanis Kalkan I. Julia Harper was used to the cold silence of small- town offices. But there was something about the musty scent of dust and old files in the Valeroux po- lice station that made her skin itch. It wasn’t the usual discomfort she felt when stepping into the unknown no, this time it was different. It was as though the walls themselves knew something she didn’t. And the longer she stared at the victim’s files, the more it seemed that Simon Devereux’s life was a carefully cultivated facade. Her fingers trailed across the papers, brushing over the glossy promotional material that showed De- vereux smiling in front of his vineyard. They painted him as a man with a flawless reputation, a wealthy, influential member of Valeroux society who spent his days tending to his collection of rare wines, some of which were worth more than most people’s homes. But Julia knew better. The more polished the image, the more likely there was something rotten beneath. Vines of Deceit Simon Devereux was a man whose face appeared in every social gathering and whose name adorned the town’s most prestigious establishments. Yet no one seemed to have anything truly personal to say about him. Not a single word of genuine affection or even a hint of true character. Just the usual respect, admiration, and maybe a bit of envy from those who couldn’t quite climb to his level. All those acquaint- ances, and no real friends. Julia couldn’t help but wonder: who really knew him? She leaned back in the worn chair, scanning the rest of the papers. A network of powerful contacts, business ties, and a history that didn’t seem to match the rosy public image. In fact, there were traces of a man who wasn’t quite as untouchable as the town believed. One note in particular caught her eye: “De- vereux Associates, Investor disputes, 2016” . She scrib- bled down a reminder to check it later. This wasn’t just about a man and his wine—it was about a man and his power. Before she could continue her search, a knock at the door sliced through the silence like a knife. “Inspector Harper?” The voice was deep, self-as- sured, and brimming with a sort of controlled ag- gression. The man who entered was as wide as a barn Tanis Kalkan door, wearing a sneer like a second skin. He had a thick neck that seemed to hold up his entire frame, and his suit was just a shade too tight to be comfort- able. Hugo Vallot, Valeroux’s most respected vintner, or so he claimed. Julia had heard of him, of course. No one could miss the man who monopolized the local wine industry, or at least thought he did. “That’s me,” Julia replied, not even bothering to stand. Her gaze never wavered, sharp and unblink- ing. “You’re here to tell me I’m wasting my time, I presume.” Vallot scowled, leaning against the doorframe as if daring her to say something. “I don’t need to pre- sume, Detective. We all know who Simon was. A man with more enemies than you can count. And for some reason, I get the sense you’re looking in the wrong direction.” He stepped forward, his presence filling the room like a storm cloud. Julia remained calm, but a small smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth. “And you’d know all about those enemies, wouldn’t you?” Vallot’s nostrils flared. “I don’t need to be remind- ed of the obvious, Harper. Simon had plenty of ene- mies. But you know what? No one would be foolish Vines of Deceit enough to kill him over something trivial. Not here, not in my town.” Julia raised an eyebrow, folding her arms across her chest. “This isn’t your town, Mr. Vallot. Not any- more.” Her voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it, one that could slice through steel if needed. Before Vallot could retort, the door swung open with a loud creak. Claire Devereux, Simon’s widow, stood in the doorway. Her striking beauty was tem- pered by the faintest trace of exhaustion around her eyes. She had clearly been through a lot, but there was something about her, something beyond the grief that made Julia suspicious. “Is it really necessary for you to be here, Hugo?” Claire’s voice was low, almost strained. There was a tension in her tone, an unspoken history between her and Vallot. Vallot bristled. “Don’t start, Claire. I’m here be- cause I care about what happens to this town, to this vineyard . You should be thanking me, but I suspect your loyalty lies elsewhere.” Claire didn’t flinch, but her eyes narrowed. “You’ll find your answers, Hugo. Just not from me. Go home.” Tanis Kalkan With that, Hugo Vallot left the room, his thick foot- steps echoing down the hallway. The moment he was gone, Claire turned to Julia, her expression softening. “I’m sorry about him,” Claire said, her voice quieter now. “He’s always had a way of making everything... about him.” She hesitated, as if weighing her words carefully. “But Hugo’s right about one thing.” Julia tilted her head slightly. “Oh? And what’s that?” “Simon had enemies. People who would have want- ed to see him dead. People who envied what he built.” Claire’s voice grew quieter, her hands trembling ever so slightly as she clasped them in front of her. “But who would kill him? That’s the real question. Simon... he wasn’t just a wine merchant. He had... interests. Dangerous ones.” Julia’s ears perked up. “Interests? What kind of in- terests?” Claire hesitated. “You need to meet someone. Someone who knows Simon better than I ever did. They’ll tell you everything you need to know. But not here.” She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Meet me at the old vineyard tomorrow, at dusk. You’ll find the answers you’re looking for.” Vines of Deceit Julia stared at her for a long moment, weighing the woman’s words. There was an air of finality in Claire’s tone, as if the secrets of the town were about to spill over, and Julia was the one chosen to catch them. “Fine,” Julia said finally, standing up. “But I’m not one for games, Claire. If you want me to find out who killed your husband, you’d better be prepared to tell me everything.” Claire nodded, her eyes flickering with something unreadable. “You’ll find out soon enough. And when you do... be careful.” The door clicked shut behind Claire, leaving Julia alone in the stillness. The room seemed to close in on her as she stared at the empty chair where Hugo Vallot had just stood. The words he had spoken, the venom in his voice, it all felt too convenient. Was he trying to steer her away from something? Or was it a bit of self-pres- ervation? Either way, the investigation was far from over. If anything, it had only just begun. Julia Harper wasn’t in the business of letting go once she had a lead. And this one? It smelled like a vineyard full of secrets and a very bitter harvest. Tanis Kalkan II. The old vineyard stood like a forgotten monument to something long past, its once-sturdy stone walls now cracked and overgrown with ivy. The scent of decaying grapes and dry earth mixed in the air, hang- ing heavy as Julia Harper stepped through the iron gates. It was the kind of place where time seemed to stop, where the memories of a more prosperous past fought against the relentless passage of years. Julia squinted against the fading light of dusk, her boots crunching over the gravel path as she ap- proached the dilapidated building at the center of the vineyard. She had seen the place before featured in glossy brochures and winemaker’s festivals, always glorified and celebrated as a local treasure. Now it looked like a place best left forgotten, its promise of vintage delights turned into the very picture of ne- glect. Vines of Deceit “Detective Harper,” came a gravelly voice from the shadowed corner of the crumbling cellar, startling her as she reached the door. A man with the build of a man who’d lived through decades of hardship stood leaning against the brick wall, his eyes sharp but tired, as though the weight of life had pressed him down into the earth itself. Julia had been told to expect Laurent. Claire De- vereux had made it sound as though Laurent was the key to unravelling Simon’s tangled life, though Claire hadn’t exactly seemed thrilled to mention him. Julia understood why now, Laurent looked like someone who had seen too much and shared too little. “Laurent, I presume,” Julia said, her voice steady despite the unease gnawing at her. “You’re the one who wanted to speak to me?” Laurent snorted, dragging a cigarette from the crumpled pack in his pocket and lighting it with a practiced flick of his wrist. He exhaled slowly, the smoke curling into the evening air like some lost soul’s whisper. “Not ‘wanted,’ Detective,” he rasped. “Needed.” “I’ve got a lot of questions, and I’m hoping you’ve got some answers,” Julia replied, squaring her shoul- Tanis Kalkan ders. She knew better than to walk into situations like this without a clear goal. Laurent was clearly no stranger to the shadows of business dealings, and that meant he was likely as slippery as the vines that once gripped the land. Laurent didn’t seem in any rush to respond, so Ju- lia waited, letting the tension hang between them like the weight of the vines stretching far into the distance. Finally, he dropped the cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his boot, looking her up and down. “Simon Devereux had a lot of enemies. But the most dangerous? His brother, Luc.” Julia’s brow furrowed. “His brother?” she repeated, surprised by the revelation. Laurent nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing. “Luc Devereux, always living in Simon’s shadow. The younger brother. But the real issue...” Laurent’s voice lowered to a near whisper, “...was that Luc was a gam- bler. A big one. A desperate one.” He paused, look- ing out over the vineyard, his gaze distant. “When the debts piled up, Simon refused to help him. That’s when everything turned sour. Family fights are messy, Detective. And desperate people... they do desperate things.”