Clarets of Fire Page 18

  “Don’t be so melodramatic, Andrew. If I didn’t speak up, I’d essentially be turning Isabella into a widow. You know that they’re never going to let Rico out of prison.”

  “Because he’s guilty! Who else could it be? I know what it’s like to slave away all day for little pay. Unlike you. Great-Grandma Rose was ripe for the picking when you found her, wasn’t she, Malcolm?”

  I was getting close and I didn’t want to run the risk of being spotted, so I edged over to some thick bougainvillea to hide behind. I crouched down so that I could find a “peep hole” in the branches to observe them. All of a sudden I felt something wet on my injured arm.

  “Ack!”

  “Ssh, Halsey, they’ll hear you,” a voice whispered next to me.

  I turned to see Marisol sitting cross-legged with Bardot beside her. Bardot resumed licking my arm, and then her tail wagging made loud rustling noises against the branches of the bougainvillea bush.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked Marisol softly.

  “Same as you, listening to these two yell at each other.”

  I stilled Bardot’s tail and put my index finger to my lips. She understood the signal and got into a down position. I leaned over to look through the natural clearing that Marisol had found.

  “Andrew, you know very well that I had nothing to do with Abigail Rose’s death. We’ve been all through this.”

  I could see both men using pitchforks to pile up branches, leaves, and debris. With each bit of arguing their movements got more determined.

  “You also chose to do nothing about sharing the inheritance with a last remaining blood relative, didn’t you, Malcolm?”

  “I didn’t even know that you were alive and in this country at the time, Andrew. The first time that I saw you in person since childhood was when you drove up to the winery about a year ago. And I didn’t know that we were blood relatives until a few months after that when you took a saliva sample to send off for a DNA test!”

  What? Andrew had said that it was Malcolm who had found him.

  “I told you things only someone who had been a kid with you would remember.”

  “And I took you on and gave you a job and room and board, Andrew.”

  “Oops, I forgot to throw you a party. My name should be on the deed for this vineyard along with yours, Malcolm. Not your interloping wife that you’ve only known for sixteen months or so.”

  At that Malcolm dropped his pitchfork and opened up a can of gasoline. He started pouring heavy douses on the pyre.

  “Stop that. You’re going to drown the fire before it even starts. Don’t you know anything about combustion?”

  Andrew tried to grab the can away from Malcolm and they ended up wrestling to the ground. Andrew outweighed Malcolm by at least fifty pounds, so the battle was soon over. But in the process I’d seen gasoline spill out onto Malcolm’s clothing.

  Andrew stood over him, the can in one hand and a book of matches that he’d pulled out of his pocket in the other.

  I gave out an audible gasp.

  Andrew turned in our direction and froze.

  We did the same.

  In the next moment a large owl took flight, and from behind Andrew and Malcolm I could hear voices and see light being emitted from torches.

  “That’s got to be some of the guys from Bergsteen Winery,” Malcolm said, getting up.

  The voices got louder, and I nodded to Marisol that it was time to go.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  “Where’s Malibu Rose?” I asked Marisol when we’d reached the top of the hill and the main house.

  “She’s sleeping in your bed. Poor little thing was pooped.”

  “What? Why my bed? And I’m not surprised that the puppy was tired after all that toxic food you fed her.”

  “You ate it too and you didn’t die. And she’s going to want to sleep next to Bardot later, so I saved the puppy the trouble of moving.”

  “There is so much wrong with that logic. But we’ll get back to this. Right now we need to round up the girls and tell them what we witnessed.”

  “Just open a bottle of wine and they’ll come swarming.”

  “Very funny . . . let’s get to the barn.”

  As we passed the main house I had an idea.

  “You go on ahead, Marisol. There’s something that Malcolm asked me to look for in his office. I’ll be along in a few minutes. And don’t feed Bardot any more food!”

  “Okay, okay, meanie.”

  I crept up onto the patio and entered the house through the kitchen doors. I was hoping not to be seen, but if I got caught I’d just say that I was looking for Penelope. The room was dark except for some lights on the pizza oven and over the farmhouse sink. A wrought iron rack was suspended from the ceiling above the island counter in the center of the kitchen. Utensils and pots and pans hung down on hooks all around the rack. In this light they looked more like goblins, hovering and waiting to attack.

  Stop it, Halsey, you’re scaring yourself!

  I’d barely spent any time inside the main house, so I had no clue where Malcolm’s office was located. There were three ways in and out of the kitchen: the one to the patio and two doors on opposite walls of the space. It was a toss-up, so I went with the one to my left. The door opened into the next room, which was pitch-black. I reached into my pocket for my cell phone.

  Rats.

  I remembered that it was charging in my room in the barn. I was going to have to feel my way along the walls, because I wanted to avoid switching on a light until I was in the office. I had offered to help Malcolm search for the receipt for the oven, not go in on my own and snoop around. Who knows how long he and Andrew would continue arguing at the bonfire, and now that they had company from another winery, they could be there all night drinking and bragging and telling stories.

  I knew that for each day that Rico was in jail, Inspector Mason was strengthening his case. And now, thanks to his temper, Andrew had cast himself into the spotlight as a viable suspect.

  I heard footsteps nearby and froze. The moonlight had helped my eyes adjust a bit to the dark, and while I could make out little more than shadows, I was pretty certain that I was looking at a person moving about at the far end of this room. I flattened myself as close as possible against the wall behind me, and on my back I felt an uneven surface that I couldn’t immediately place.

  There were intermittent banging noises coming from the back of the room, and I suspected that the person groping around did not want to be identified either.

  The noises were getting closer.

  All of a sudden I heard a thud, the rumbling sound of something moving, and a muffled groan. I felt the wall at my back vibrate with increasing velocity, and the rumbling got closer.

  Then I felt the swish of cold air breeze past my face, and I made a loud intake of air. The other person in the room must have heard me because next I felt the vibration of footsteps breaking into a run. A sliver of light showed and extinguished itself quickly as the door to the kitchen was open and shut.

  I was hyperventilating and still frightened by what had just whipped by me.

  I waited a few moments but heard no other sounds. When I dared, I turned around to face the uneven wall and tried to figure out what made it that way. Parts of the wall had a little bit of give, moving slightly forward and back. The wall was made not of stone or even of wood, although parts felt like timber.

  I was finally able to work one of the pieces loose and it fell to the floor with a thump. I kneeled and felt around for it, and when I found it I realized that it was a book.

  I must be in the library and that thing that swooshed by me, and scared the other person off, was probably a ladder!

  I slowly calmed my breathing. I wanted to follow whoever had been in here with me, but I knew that this could be my only chance to find the proof that I needed in Malcolm’s office. Even though the cashier’s check could be traced back to the bank he withdrew if from, there was nothing to ti
e it to Rico unless I found a receipt for delivery.

  I opened the door at the back of the room a crack and peered through. It led to a big atrium, and I guessed that this was the foyer of the main entrance to the house. I listened and when I was satisfied that I was alone, I crossed the floor to another door, which was already ajar. There was a light on somewhere in the room. I knocked lightly just in case there was someone in there. I decided that it would play better than sneaking in.

  When I didn’t hear a response, I entered the room.

  Bingo! This must be Malcolm’s office. There was a desk in the center of the room, and one wall held shelves of curios that I recognized from his great-grandmother Abigail’s collection. There was the old La Union cigar box that had set off the whole mystery surrounding her death. There was his family’s collection of antique carnival and amusement park memorabilia, from when they had worked at the Venice Beach attractions after the turn of the twentieth century. Some family members had been legit, and some were bona fide con artists. And in a glass and wooden case in the corner of the room was an antique tommy submachine gun with its classic magazine drum. The history of how it came to be in the family’s possession is vague but its more recent use is not. A couple of years ago Malcolm’s great-grandmother, who had lived on Rose Avenue, went missing. She’d been at a very advanced age and was in the final stages of Alzheimer’s disease. As the fickle finger of fate had latched on to me, her body turned up buried in a garden plot—my garden plot—in the community gardens on the hill east of Rose Avenue. It was Bardot’s helping me turn the soil to plant grapevines that cleared the soil to reveal her old, bony hand. I’ll spare you all the details, but I can’t look at that gun without remembering that it almost killed me when we discovered the culprit.

  I shifted my attention to Malcolm’s desk and realized that it had been thoroughly searched and ransacked. By, I’m guessing, the mystery person that passed me in the library. They had to be looking for that receipt. I couldn’t think of another reason for this mess.

  Who stands to gain the most if Rico takes the fall for the fire? Up until now I wouldn’t have thought Andrew, but he was becoming a more and more likely suspect. If the evidence had been found or not, there was no point in me going over what had clearly been an exhaustive search job.

  No longer worried about being spotted, I exited the house via the main door, but I jumped back in almost immediately to avoid being run over by an El Camino lowrider half-bed truck traveling way too fast toward the dark roadway out of the winery. Introduced by Chevy in the early sixties, these half truck, half cars of glistening chrome, bright colors, and mirrors spawned a culture in California for big cars cruising low and slow. Catch a Cheech & Chong movie if you’re still not picturing it.

  The car slowed and kicked up dirt to be able to take the turn for the road down the hill. When I craned my neck out again, I saw Bardot leap into the back of the truck. When she saw me—and then didn’t—she must have thought that I’d hopped in for a ride.

  Marisol caught up with me huffing and puffing.

  “Sorry . . . one minute, Bardie was right beside me. The next, she was gone.”

  “Not your fault, Marisol.”

  We both watched helplessly as the truck went through the first turn of the winding dirt road.

  “Huh.”

  “What huh? Do you recognize that truck, Marisol?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Is it the one that tried to run you over?”

  “Could be but they really weren’t aiming for me, just going fast.”

  I got one last glimpse of the back of the truck and could see Bardot looking back at me confused. As the vehicle braked for a switchback the license plate was briefly illuminated. It read, CRKNEE. I bolted for my car.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Bardot’s in there. I’ve got to save her!”

  “Then I’m coming too.”

  Marisol picked up speed and actually beat me to the car.

  I hope that I’m that spry at half her age.

  “Hey, sister, where’re you going?” Sally asked as I backed out of the parking area.

  I rolled down my window.

  “Bardot jumped into the flatbed of a truck thinking that I was riding in it. Someone is speeding down the road with her, and I’ve got to catch up or I might never see Bardot again.”

  “Oh Lordy, Lord. I’ll find Penelope and Malcolm and we’ll catch up to you with flashlights. Drive carefully!”

  “What the hell’s going on? I lay down for a short nap and everything is going to hell in a hand basket,” Peggy declared, joining Sally from the barn.

  “I’ll fill you in on the way, but right now we’ve got to find Penelope!” Sally grabbed Peggy by her fleece vest and pulled her toward the main house.

  * * *

  I took the first turn a little too fast and we skidded sideways on the gravel. I let off the brakes so as not to send us into a full spin. When it was safe, I applied some gas and pointed us down the hill again.

  “Marisol, did you see that license plate? Does it ring a bell from before?”

  “No, what’d it say?”

  “It was a personalized one, just the letters C-R-KN-E-E.”

  “Nope, but I only saw it from the front. After I fell on my knee I didn’t see anything for a few minutes.”

  “Say that again, Marisol.”

  “What? The whole thing? Why?”

  “No just the last bit.”

  “After I fell on my knee . . . this is stupid!”

  My heart was racing and once again we started to slide off the roadway. This time I hit the gas and straightened us out.

  “Don’t you get it, Marisol? Say the spelling of the license plate out loud.”

  “I already forgot it.”

  “Fine, then I will. The first two letters are CR which could be short for ‘CAR.’ And the second group of letters spell ‘KNEE.’ Put them together and you have something that sounds like ‘CARNEY.’”

  “Great, what do you want? A marching band with trained monkeys?”

  “Don’t you get it, Marisol? That has to be Andrew in that truck trying to get away. He comes from a family of carnival scam artists.”

  “So does Malcolm.”

  “True, but what reason would he have to be running away? Surely you don’t think that Malcolm had anything to do with the fire?”

  “I dunno. Watch out, HALSEY!” Marisol screamed, and ahead all I saw were blinding headlights speeding toward us.

  I reached across the front seat to hold Marisol in place and took a sharp turn to my right.

  And that was when everything went to black.

  * * *

  I tried to open my eyes, but the second that I let any light in my whole head pounded in anger.

  I was breathing so I guessed that I was alive, but I had no clue where I was or how I’d gotten here. I felt the space at either side of my body and concluded that I was lying on my back and that beneath me was dirt.

  Maybe they’re digging a hole and getting ready to bury me!

  “Halsey?”

  I faintly heard a voice utter my name.

  “Babe, are you okay? We gave you a quick check and nothing appeared to be broken, but tell me where it hurts.”

  I kept my eyes shut, but I was beginning to get my faculties back. The voice sounded like Jack’s. I felt warm air on my cheek and then a kiss with tongue on my lips.

  Really, Jack?

  Then the warm breath shifted to my ear and again the tongue went in for the kill.

  I sure as hell hope that we’re alone, Jack.

  When I then heard a series of sniffs and leaves rustling, I realized that they were caused by a tail wagging and that the sloppy kisser was in fact Bardot.

  “What happened?” I tried to sit up and was unsuccessful.

  “Honey, don’t try to move just yet.” This time I knew that it was Jack speaking.

  And then I remembered.

  “Mari
sol!” I sat up abruptly. “Is she okay?” I opened my eyes to try and see for myself.

  “She’s much tougher than you, Halsey,” I heard another voice say, and looked up for its owner. Staring down at me, I could make out Augie and Marisol.

  “You’re both a sight for sore eyes. Hi, Bardot. How did you get off the truck, my sweet girl?”

  “We passed it on our way up. It had come to a stop, and I saw something jump out the back and run into the fields.”

  “Rico?” I asked, wondering if I was hallucinating.

  “Correct. They let me go, Halsey.”

  “How about we first get you on your feet and back up to the winery so we can properly check on your injuries, hon? I think that it would be best if we call the paramedics.” Jack put his arm under my knees and hoisted me up to his chest.

  “No! Seriously, I really am fine. Just ask Sally to come up and take a look at me,” I pleaded.

  He set me down in the backseat of his truck and Marisol joined me. Bardot also wouldn’t leave my side.

  “Be right back. I think Augie, Rico, and I can get your car out of the ditch and back on the road,” Jack told me.

  “I feel pretty stupid driving off the road because I thought that some ‘demon’ was trying to kill us.”

  “Usually I’d say you are stupid, Halsey . . . and drunk. But not this time.”

  “I appreciate the vote of confidence, Marisol.”

  We heard wheels turning in gravel, and I ultimately saw my poor car pull out onto the road. There was visible damage to the body over my front wheel, but I couldn’t count on that being the only problem until I took it to a mechanic.

  “Okay,” Jack said once his head appeared through the backseat window. “It actually sounded pretty good when we started her up. Augie and Rico are going to drive it back to the winery, and then we can put some lights on it and take a closer look.”

  I watched my poor, dusty car head up to the winery. Both Augie and Rico had the windows down, which was just going to let in more dirt. I’ll need to get it detailed for sure.

  Jack got behind the wheel and turned on his truck’s massive headlights and side searchlights. The road lit up, revealing all its twists and turns.