My Favorite Hate Mail

My recent rise in readership that came about because of the San Francisco Chronicle article has been rather disconcerting. Mostly because I wasn't aware San Francisco even had a daily newspaper. I get all my news from The Christian Science Monitor. His name is Mary Baker Eddie, and he stands outside monitoring the Christian Science Reading Room in Healdsburg. Want to have some fun? Go into a Christian Science Reading Room with a gaping flesh wound. They'll give you something to read for it, usually a year-old Wine and Spirits Magazine with a fascinating article by Patrick Comiskey on great Northwestern United States Clamato Juice cocktails. (One cocktail was even named for a noted food writer--the James Bearded Clam.) Oh, what was I saying? Oh, yeah, it's been rather a whirlwind few days, lots of Internet chatter about having me be a suicide bomber at the next Wine Bloggers Conference (they'd strap bottles of Korbel Brut to my body rigged to explode whenever Alder Yarrow congratulates himself--so, right off the bat), many more hits than usual on HoseMaster of Wine (the blog, not me), and, thankfully, a lot more hate mail! Here are a few chosen from the ol' mailbag. Suicide blogger bomber


Dear HoseMaster of Stupidity,

We've never met, but we will. I'm the wine buyer for Hell, and I have a few bones to pick with you regarding your recent insulting remarks about my customers and my by-the-glass program. First of all, where does an imbecile like you get off taking shots at Robert Mondavi and the Gallo brothers? They were making California wines cheap and famous, keeping their thumbs on the backs of migrant workers and underpaying small farmers, before you were out of diapers, which, by the way you smell, must have been an hour ago. What does an incontinent blogger wear to bed? Depends. Get it? Like the undergarment, not "it depends." Plays better in Hell.

I was talking to Bob and Ernie and Julio at the bar last night. They were having a drink with Parker and Fred Franzia, who isn't dead, but has a second home here when it gets too hot in Bumfuck, California, where he lives. I was gently pulling their fingernails out and waterboarding them (at the suggestion of Dick Cheney, who had one foot in the door here last night but got called back--what a great guy!) not with water, but with Ecco Domani Pinot Grigio, which is exactly the same, I guess. Anyhow, they think you should treat them with more respect. I told them that you're a douchebag, in fact, a douchebag for Joan Rivers, and that they'll get their whacks at you when you arrive here, which is undoubtedly sooner than you think. I'm not supposed to say anything, but that liver of yours is about as functional as Charlie Sheen. But maybe it's not too late for you if you back off now and lay off my boys. They don't mind the waterboarding, but they're very sensitive to criticism.

And I do not serve Lodi Zin or Gruner Veltliner by the glass, dimwit. Satan hates that shit. He's happy to see humans drink it while they're alive, but he doesn't want that in his house. I have a very interesting by-the-glass list that consists of about thirty different wines that I've carefully chosen from reviews by the most pathetic wine bloggers working! I tried to select worse wines, but, hell, oops, heck, I'm just not that good at touting crap. But BrixChicks and WineHarlot and WannabeWino take all the work out of it for me! You should see the look on Parker's face when he has to drink a glass of each. You'd think he'd died and gone to Hell, which he has. In fact, now that I think about it, taking their wine recommendations is exactly like waterboarding yourself.

So stop writing about things you don't know anything about, HoseMonster of Wine. Hey, nice article in the Chronicle!

Sincerely,
Raj Parr
Wine Buyer, Michael Mina Restaurants and Hell



Hey Laughing Boy,

So I travel to Napa Valley, where the children of God own wineries, to attend the Wine Wroters (past tense--pretty clever, right, and why I get the big bucks) Symposium, which they tricked me into attending, by the way, by promising that I wouldn't have to listen to the Ethics Panel discussion, which, as it turned out, was actually about how to avoid having any ethics, which is what wine writers really want to know, and where do I end up at dinner that night? Well, you know where, across from you. I had to turn down invitations from some of the most powerful people in the wine world (aside from me, of course), like 1WineDude--hey, I could have had dinner with 1WineDude, dammit, except it turns out French Laundry doesn't have a children's menu. Which is odd. How do they serve the winery owners' wives? Anyway, I could have spent an evening with Charlie Olken! Yes, the Charlie Olken. Have you read this guy's comments? He's funny like one of those robots on Mystery Science Theater 3000! I could have had dinner with Steve Heimoff. Well, OK, that's never gonna happen. But instead I end up with you and Alfonso. Alfonso told me we were meeting somebody talented and famous. I was sure he meant James Laube. How many people get to actually meet James Laube?! Laube's the J.D. Salinger of wine writing, if J.D. Salinger were boring and incapable of writing an interesting sentence. But instead Alfonso plays a big practical joke on me and you show up! I haven't had such a boring evening since I watched every episode of WineLibraryTV that isn't gibberish. Both of them.

I'm sure our paths will never cross again and Alfonso can kiss his wine career goodbye. The two of you ruined my trip like a visit to the tasting room at Castello di Amorosa (though I loved her on "The Apprentice!") But, hey, nice article in the Chronicle!

Ta-ta Sucker,
The World's Most Famous Wine Writer


Dear Mr. Washam,

What have poodles ever done to you that you constantly compare them to wine bloggers? I'm sick of it. You make me sick, and your blog makes me want to hurl up my Ken'L Ration. Poodles are honorable and noble beasts, loyal and honest, faithful and intelligent. Does that sound like a blogger to you, pinhead? Go ahead, name one who could be described like that. Gets a little sticky with that honest and honorable stuff, doesn't it? And poodles are hypoallergenic! Ever been in a room with Tom Wark? Oh my God, the guy sheds like a garter snake. Your stupid quote about wine blogging as "the attention barking of lonely poodles" is gratuitously insulting to poodles, and, beyond that it's incredibly stupid. You're a misanthropic moron. You tear everything down and do nothing to contribute to any conversation about wine. And you make fun of poodles! Every poodle on the planet is superior to you, and most beagles too. Why, the world would be a better place if, in fact, wine bloggers were poodles. Hell, they sniff each others butts enough!

But, hey, nice article in the Chronicle!

Sincerely,
Liberace

PS--I had drinks last night with Mondavi, the Gallos and Fred Franzia. They said to say,"Hi, your table is ready."

The HoseMaster's Honest Guide to Grapes

Whenever I refer to wine books for information about the many and varied varieties of vitis vinifera I never find anything useful. They tell you where it's most famously grown, they tell you some imaginary aromas that the wine supposedly possesses, they tell you other names for it, but what does that get you? You can't impress your wine ignorant friends with that sort of knowledge. They are so impressed that you have a wine blog, you can't appear clueless! They turn to you for recommendations of the cheap crap that corporate-owned wineries send you for free. (Wow, is William Hill Chardonnay really that good?! It must be, it has Phthalates listed on the label ingredients!) They trust you! They buy all their wines based on your "I can't really be bothered to actually say something useful" 140-character Tweets about the free samples you receive. So now that you're up for an American Wine Blog Award (the equivalent of a Smiley Face on your sixth grade spelling test) it's time you learned a little bit more about the grapes that make the wines we love. Useful stuff this time, not that tired old Jancis Robinson crap.


CHARDONNAY

What are we looking for when we taste a Chardonnay? Me, I'm looking for an excuse not to like it. I'm Simon Cowell and every Chardonnay is a contestant on "American Idol." I'm a Republican and every Chardonnay is a National Health Care plan. I'm Hugh Hefner and every Chardonnay is ah...um, I forget...what was it, um, where's my fucking Viagra? Everyone tries not to like it, but it's still wildly popular. Like airport security.

Interesting Chardonnay facts:

They try to sell the crappy ones by calling them "Burgundian." This is perfectly appropriate as a way to insult the French, who so richly deserve it.

Chardonnay is considered one of the Noble Grapes. This was 19th Century marketing. It's no more noble than French Colombard except that it denies its nationality. I much prefer German Colombard, which nearly destroyed London in WW II.

Chardonnay is particularly suited for seafood. Tuna drink it by the boatload.

Other Names for Chardonnay:

Cougar Juice
Kistler Piss
White Slavery
Beauner Killer


SAUVIGNON BLANC

Sauvignon Blanc is only used as cocktail wine because it goes lousy with food. OK, it goes fine with food, but nobody serves it with dinner because it's too cheap. It's also known as Fume Blanc, a name Robert Mondavi made up in order to sell it, which has confused everyone since and is but one of the reasons he is now in Hell with Ernest and Julio and forced to drink Gruner Veltliner. (Which is what they serve by the glass in Hell, unless you want red, in which case it's Pinotage. It used to be Zinfandel but they ripped it out because it's hotter in Lodi.) Were it not for Sauvignon Blanc there would have been no reason to invent the Stelvin.

Interesting Sauvignon Blanc facts:

The best New Zealand versions can remove your pet's carpet accidents.

It is commonly blended with Semillon in order to find something useful to do with stupid Semillon.

Sauvignon Blanc is the major white grape of the Loire Valley. This isn't funny.

Other Names for Sauvignon Blanc:

Mel
Windex Blanc
Puckerface (often "Fuckerpace")
Lemon Pledge
Pouilly PeePee


RIESLING

Everybody talks about Riesling as a great white wine, but nobody drinks it. So whatever you say about it, how it tastes and smells, doesn't matter, no one's going to drink it anyway. But it comes in a cool bottle and the German ones feature a word puzzle on every label! Riesling often has residual sugar as a trap to try and make Americans like it, but it doesn't work because it doesn't taste sweet really. So how stupid are Riesling producers? Riesling likes to grow where it's cold, so around Andrea Immer's house.

Interesting Riesling facts:

The traditional Riesling bottle is called a "hock" because so many people try to pawn off Rieslings on people.

German Rieslings are categorized according to the sugar levels in the must. The must is like the grape's taint, only sweet. The basic category is Kabinett, which has lower sugar levels and is named for where you store your German wines so nobody sees that you have them. The sweetest sugar level wines are labeled Trocaderobeerandpretzels and often cost more than a Volkswagen Jetta--though they are more dependable.

Rieslings are said to go well with Asian cuisines. Morons say this.

Other names for Riesling:

Aunt Jemima
Other White Wines (wine lists)
Garglewein
Grandma Bait

What's the HoseMaster Drinking?

Special Edition: L'Ecole No. 41

L'Ecole No. 41 Estate Luminesce Seven Hills Vineyard
L'Ecole No. 41 Estate Syrah Seven Hills Vineyard
L'Ecole No. 41 Estate Merlot Seven Hills Vineyard
L'Ecole No. 41 Cabernet Sauvignon Walla Walla Valley
L'Ecole No. 41 Apogee Pepper Bridge Vineyard
L'Ecole No. 41 Estate Perigee Seven Hills Vineyard


The courageous and talented people at L'Ecole No. 41 sent the HoseMaster six bottles of their Walla Walla Valley wines for review. Man, it's like I'm a real wine blogger now. My initial idea was to taste them Vornography style--taste all six in nine minutes and give them a number. If it's good enough for the American Wine Blog Award's Best Wine Blog winner, it's good enough for me. But I didn't really have that much time to devote to the wines. Or I thought I should taste them and then try to think of what music went best with them. That's what people searching the Internet for wine recommendations really want. Wines just plain taste better with the appropriate music; and it's just plain laziness and lack of caring that keeps major wine critics from matching wine and music. It's not that it's stupid, it's not, it's not! Really. What would be stupid is matching wine with magic tricks, that would be stupid. Sangiovese and Sawing a Woman in Half. What goes better with wine from Abruzzo than 3-Card Montepulciano? Oh, they want to know what song to listen to, and what kind of closure the bottles have. I'm pretty sure all the L'Ecole wines had corks because when I tried to unscrew the tops I kept turning the bottle upside down and nothing came out! So I'm guessing there are corks involved. If you buy a bottle and it doesn't have a cork, it's probably a fake. If it's in a plastic container, you're probably confused and you've purchased L'Ecole slaw.


I have a long history with L'Ecole. I often put their wines on my wine list in my glory days as a sommelier and buyer (now I'm just another washed up wine guy with a blog--at a dime a dozen we are vastly overpriced). From the beginning, their wines have been very good. And I am of the opinion that Walla Walla is one of the great winegrowing regions in the world for the Bordeaux varieties, and, to a lesser extent, Syrah as well. As the vineyards mature, and as the very capable winemakers get to know them more intimately, though, please, wear a condom or you'll find out exactly why they call it "Pierce's disease," the wines of Walla Walla Valley will surely begin to rival the best wines of Napa Valley and Bordeaux. They're close now, and at the prices for which many of them are being offered, they are bargains.


L'Ecole 2008 Luminesce is a blend of 70% Semillon and 30% Sauvignon Blanc, which adds up to a perfect 100%! How do they do that? The Luminesce was my least favorite wine of the six. It was too much of a good thing. I liked the aroma of honeysuckle and beeswax that called Semillon immediately to mind (I know, mind my own beeswax). But I think the texture of the wine was a bit cloying for my palate, too much Rachel Ray, not enough Dorothy Parker. According to the notes, 30% of the wine went through malolactic fermentation and perhaps that's what I tasted; but in any event, it is well-made, even above-average wine that I think many folks, fans of a rich and oily style of white wine, will love. $20

L'Ecole 2007 Estate Syrah has far more in common with big, chewy California Syrah than anything you're likely to find in the Rhone Valley. I love Syrah, and I really love great Syrah. Great Syrah has something wild and untamed about it, like a woman you meet in a bar late at night who just can't keep her hands off you, who doesn't care if you understand her she just wants to be consumed by you, sniffed and swirled and spit out at the end, like you're judging her in a competition but can't stop sampling her, can't stop using your tongue to consume her, you can feel the hair on the back of your ears starting to tingle, the balls of your feet start to itch, that feeling you get when you watch Glenn Beck, the slight sickness of the stomach, she's really making your meat compass point due north...and then she's gone and you want her again. Damn, I have to stop reading Samantha Sans Dosage.

The L'Ecole '07 Syrah kept improving in my glass. At first it was a bit too much for me, a bit too rich and fat. But it sported Syrah's signature bacon and smoke aromas layered among dark red fruit, so I hung with it. By the end of the evening it had won me over. Had I only tasted it when it had just been opened, I would have dismissed it as the proverbial pig in lipstick--my high school prom date. But sitting with this wine over the course of a meal and the evening beyond, I was won over. It kept gaining richness and complexity, and it had admirable length the entire evening. This is not the wine for fans of the white pepper, cool climate Syrah, but it succeeds gracefully on its own level and promises to be fabulous in another six or seven years. $37


The L'Ecole 2007 Estate Merlot contains 81% Merlot, 11% Cabernet Sauvignon and 8% Cabernet Franc, once again hitting the amazing 100% mark! It's uncanny how they do this! But, really, why is it we need a damned math degree to understand wine? Anyway, now that my head has stopped spinning, I can still remember the fuss with which L'Ecole's Merlot was greeted when it first appeared on the scene. For a time there, back in the late 1980's, it was highly sought after, allocated Merlot. Of course, that was when Merlot was the cool wine to drink, the darling of restaurants and wine shops. Now it's the Meg Ryan of varieties. Used to be hot, now no one cares. But judging from this wine, L'Ecole still cares, and they still make wonderful Merlot. This wine gives me just what I want from Merlot. It's seamless and satisfying, with an array of black fruit flavors with just a bit of green olives and earth on the finish. Badmouth Merlot like it's your creepy aunt who smells like a urinal cake, go ahead, but in this case you'll be missing out on a delicious bottle of wine. $37


The L'Ecole 2006 Cabernet Sauvignon is 100% Cabernet Sauvignon! OK, that seems like cheating. This is nice wine, but I actually liked the Merlot better. But, like all of the six L'Ecole wines I tasted, it hits the varietal nail on the head. So you get Cabernet Sauvignon's deep, dark, rich, black fruit with cassis and tobacco notes that stand up to the firm tannins. It was a bit understuffed, I thought, kind of clunky, like watching a white guy dance. And where the other reds all struck me as examples of how great Washington wine can be, the Cabernet is good, but not up to that level. So, to sum up, damn nice wine, but in this stellar lineup, it's the figure skater from Costa Rica. $40


The 2006 L'Ecole Apogee is 46% Cabernet Sauvignon, 42% Merlot, 8% Malbec and 4% Cabernet Franc. Come on, you can add faster than that. Bingo! Damn, those folks at L'Ecole make it look easy. "Apogee" is the point in the orbit of the moon that is the greatest distance from the earth. That's what the tech sheet says. I was sure it was "Eatin' good in the neighborhood." Here's a wine that represents what I was talking about earlier, the astounding quality of the wines from Walla Walla Valley. This gorgeous wine has everything going for it--balance, integrity, intensity, mouthfeel, length. I don't' know why you wouldn't want to drink this wine. There's something about a great wine that taps you on the shoulder the minute you taste it and says, "Is this seat taken?" What the hell does that mean? I don't know, ask the Apogee. I just hear voices when I drink really interesting and wonderful wines, but that's because I'm off my meds. The '06 Apogee is dark and spicy, beautifully integrated and very supple. Yeah, I know few of us are drinking wines in this price range, but Apogee is one of the few wines I've had lately worth its price tag. $50


The L'Ecole 2006 Estate Perigee is 56% Cabernet Sauvignon, 34% Merlot, 10% Cabernet Franc. That's 100%, folks. Can that just be coincidence? Amazing. Perigee is the closest point to the earth in the moon's orbit. Not that thing that's winking at you when someone moons you. It is also damned fine wine. What Our Moon has to do with wine, I don't know. Well, actually, it implies the sustainable vineyard practices at Seven Hills Vineyard which may include planting and harvesting by the appropriate phases of the moon. Like avoiding harvest during a full moon so as not to step on the grunion. Old timey wisdom like that. Well, it sure worked here. I loved this Perigee. Again, it would be hard to find a lot of Napa Valley Cabernets this good at this price point. But they're not making wines in Walla Walla to compare them to Napa Valley. That would be futile and foolish. They simply found a magnificent site for Bordeaux varieties and set out to see how those varieties expressed themselves along the Columbia River. And in the Perigee we taste proof of the pedigree and brilliance of Walla Walla Valley. Bold but balanced, rich and fabulously graceful, it overflows with cassis and dark berries tinged with a bit of classic Cabernet tobacco. And the finish goes on and on like this post. Dazzling and elegant. $50

I must say that it was a pleasure to drink each of the L'Ecole No. 41 wines. In all of the rush to discover the new in wine, it is a good thing to stop and spend some time with the classics.


The HoseMaster Scores: L'Ecole No. 41

Luminesce 2008
473,852 Points
Syrah 2007
854,654 Points
Merlot 2007
689,402 Points
Cabernet Sauvignon 2006
476,947 Points
Apogee 2006
854,940 Points
Perigee 2006
897,438 Points


You can order these beauties here.


Disclaimer: I'm 86% dead certain, 9% pretty sure, and 4% sober. Dammit! Just missed!

My Napa Valley Wine Writers Symposium Speech

I spoke at the Napa Valley Wine Writers Symposium yesterday right after Eric Asimov and before the Dean of Wine Writers, Dean O'Weinrighters. I am unaccustomed to public speaking so I spoke on condition of anonymity, a condition I've suffered from ever since I started HoseMaster of Wine. I received a warm round of applause from the distinguished group of writers, bloggers and Trekkies in attendance, though it was hard to tell the Trekkies from the bloggers, except that the Trekkies were better dressed. I'm not sure why the Trekkies were there--maybe Alder Yarrow had posted about the event on Facebook.

Here are some excerpts from my enthusiastically received speech.


"Four score and seven years ago our Forefathers brought forth upon the incontinent a new nation, Prohibition, conceived in sobriety and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created evil. Had we listened to our forefathers we wouldn't need a Wine Writers Symposium, we wouldn't need a Napa Valley, we wouldn't need to get up at four AM and urinate. Prohibition set the wine industry of the United States back a hundred years, and, now, wine writers and fellow bloggers, we have successfully managed to do the same."


"When writing about wine I have found it useful to simply use the same words over and over. Find yourself some words you like and just rearrange them cleverly every time you review a wine sample. The words don't really matter just so long as they're descriptive and relatively vague. For example, words like 'hedonistic.' When it comes to wine, it doesn't really mean anything, so it's safe and indisputable. And one of the things that is most important to being a successful wine writer is the misuse of language for the purpose of further mystifying people who want to understand wine. 'Hedonistic' means to be self-gratifying in the pursuit of pleasure. A wine can't be hedonistic, it can't pursue pleasure, but that's the point! It sounds like you're wise and literate and have an interesting palate. There are many words like this you can use. Try to think of words that generally describe people, maybe even wine writers in general. 'Unctuous' comes to mind, but then, it would, I'm looking at 1WineDude. How about 'brooding,' 'seductive,' 'lugubrious,' 'fulsome,' prevaricative?' Wines can be all of those things, right? Apply these words generously and often in your wine reviews and soon you'll be receiving wine samples by the dozens, and perhaps an even more meaningful gift. A dictionary."


"As I gaze around the room I see many of our foremost wine bloggers. I applaud you for your hard work and humility. As I peruse the wine blogosphere I see so much that is good and right about wine blogs. You are the saviors of our friends here in Napa Valley, our friends producing expensive Cabernet Sauvignon, as you are the saviors of wine from all over the world. Your posts have propelled wine sales in these difficult economic times to heights unimaginable without you and your reviews and your points. Because, God knows, if you want to reach the people who can afford $150 bottles of wine, if you want to reach the people for whom the Recession only means their hairline, if you want to access their deep pockets, what better way than a wine blog or Facebook or Twitter? That's all these rich folks do! They don't have to work; they just sit at their laptops and chat on Facebook, and read wine blogs, and Tweet. And when a Friend, an amazing Facebook Friend, a Friend one can genuinely trust, recommends a wine to one of them, well, it doesn't take a genius to see that a sale has just been made. Chalk up another grateful winery! Social Media is here to stay. It has and will continue to save our precious wine business. It's so obvious."


"Most of all, wine writers and bloggers, continue your faithful pursuit of mediocrity. Resist the urge to say something interesting or unique. Find the good in every wine, every free sample; resist the urge to be critical, to bite the hand that strokes you. Continue to give yourselves awards, though mediocrity is its own reward, because awards have no meaning, and having no meaning is the very purpose of what we do. Announce yourself as a wine writer with pride! You are a dying breed, the last of what was once a proud profession, an elite few now diluted down to the cacophonous, ignorant many, thoughtful and educated experts now drowning in the great septic tank that is the Internet. Your days are numbered, your newspapers are dying, your magazines are tired and hypocritical and in the last stages of rigor mortis, your voices are no longer relevant--but you endure! You have Symposia! You start your own blog! You can, once again, Be Somebody!"


Exit to thunderous standing ovation...

The M.S. Conspiracy

A HoseMaster of Wine Pulp Fiction Classic

Chapter 12 With a Madman Behind Me

I woke up thinking that the sound of the gun firing had reminded me of the sound made by a 1975 Salon Champagne opened by an incompetent M.S., its precious contents spewing into the white napkin he had wrapped around the bottle like a llama horking at an innocent bystander at the zoo, at the first anniversary dinner my first wife and I shared at a snooty restaurant in Los Angeles, if that isn't redundant. But then I remembered that Salon didn't produce a Champagne in 1975, and that I didn't make it to a first anniversary with my first wife. In that vintage, Salon didn't need a cage, and neither did I. I'd been spewing into white napkins ever since.


I checked myself for gunshot wounds. Luckily, I hadn't been shot since I was a sommelier and refused to put Rancho Zabaco on my wine list. But that had been worth it. This was a stupid case that had somehow turned violent and deadly. Once again I wondered why I'd ever become a private dick. I'd had everything when I was a sommelier. A ten-year-old car, a drinking problem, a liver the size of a Wurlitzer organ, bad breath, a luxurious apartment above a crack dealer and prestige. What sort of a fool gives that up to be a private dick? No wonder everyone wanted to earn an M.S. There's real glamour in it, the glamour of imaginary accomplishment, the glamour of knowing the bottom of a spitbucket better than your partner's face, the glamour of free trips to romantic far-off lands with other drunks and losers, the glamour of knowing about obscure varieties of grapes and boring the crap out of everyone extolling their virtues, the glamour of wearing a brightly polished tastevin around your neck like you're Sammy Davis, Jr in whiteface. I'd given that prestigious life up for the life of a dick. Why? I guess because people like dicks. Women, especially, like dicks. Where would the world be without dicks? It's a dick world. I like saying dick.


I had a lump on the back of my head the size of Lance Armstrong's remaining testicle. Great. Someone had whacked me on the back of the head again. Only this time the gun had gone off. The jerk hadn't had the safety on, apparently, and the gun's impact with my beleaguered head had caused it to inadvertently discharge like a guy with P.E. at a Women in Wine conference. I was getting tired of this. I'd had my head banged around recently like I was an NFL lineman, and I wasn't excited about the idea of spending my last days drooling like a Saint Bernard and calling everybody Deacon. This case was getting to me.


I was alone in my office. I must have been out for a while. Damn. I'd missed the midget running. I could have used the laugh. And Tiny was gone too, though the floor was still warm where he'd been posing as Fugly's divan, warm enough to have made a fine Madeira, though if I wanted oxidized wines I could shop at Trader Joe's. Larry Anosmia, M.S. was gone too, but there was blood where he'd been standing. Seems the bullet had grazed him, maybe even caught him. I thought about calling Chief of Police Jokes, but I had a feeling I shouldn't. She was probably still comforting Veronica.


But who had hit me? It couldn't have been Fugly, Mr. Teebagger, I'd been hit from behind. The only explanation was that there had been another person in my office when I'd arrived, someone hidden in the coat closet slightly behind me and to my right, someone who'd been hiding there in order to assault me and who'd used my rant at Anosmia as the opportunity to sneak up behind me and use my head as a gong. Whoever it was had been nervous, an amateur, and no doubt part of the M.S. Conspiracy. Though accidentally shooting Anosmia wasn't going to score many points. Except with anyone who'd ever dealt with an M.S. before. They'd give him 100. With a bullet.


When the phone rang it scared the Temecula out of me. I was getting jumpier than a wine writer with ethics--well, if there were any they'd be jumpy. I didn't recognize the voice on the other end of the call at first, but then I realized it was Avril Cadavril, Butcher/Coroner.


"HoseMaster, I think you'd better get back here to the morgue. I've got something for you."


I was pretty sure she meant a drawer.