Authors: Tricia Stringer
She turned to look at him. He had a strange expression on his face. Suddenly he bent and scooped her up.
She gave a cry. “What are you doing?”
“Welcoming you to my home.” He carried her inside, kicked the door shut with his boot and kept walking.
“Isn't this for new brides?”
“I don't care,” he said. “I wanted to do it.”
“You do remember I've been here before?”
“How could I forget?”
Taylor wrapped her arms around his neck and enjoyed the feel of his strong arms carrying her back to his delightfully cosy bed.
Pete slid from his bed. Taylor stirred and rolled over. He paused. Her pretty blue eyes remained shut. She was the best thing that had happened to him in a long time, and not just in bed. They worked well together, laughed at the same jokes and she'd developed a love of Wriggly Creek. He plucked a strand of her flyaway hair from her cheek and draped it with the rest fluffed around her on the pillow. Her sweet pink lips parted a little as she breathed out â he bent closer then stopped. It wasn't fair to wake her. They'd had a late night. He fought the urge to jump back into bed and wake her with a long, slow kiss. His body went into overdrive at the thought.
He took his clothes from the floor, pulled the door to behind him and made his way to the kitchen. It was built across the back of the cottage making it a dining-cum-family room as well. The cold room was nearly as good as a cold shower. He tugged on his clothes and bent to inspect the fire. It was out. The day would warm up. No point in lighting it again until tonight. He'd have to find time to collect some more wood soon. He only had a small pile left over from last year.
He boiled the kettle and made a coffee. He wanted to get the first lot of plunging done. It was only the reserve cab sauv in the stainless steel fermenter now and the new cab sauv in the cement fermenter. Once Antoine came back he'd have help again. He took some slurps of coffee while he pulled on his socks and boots. Damn, it was cold all of a sudden. He gave one more thought to Taylor snug and warm in his bed, tugged on his beanie and set off to the winery.
Not far from the shed that housed the new wine tanks he paused.
He could see one of the doors was partly open. He moved closer, unease worming through his chest. There was a hose protruding from the gap and a red stain all over the ground. He covered the last few metres in quick strides. His brain couldn't comprehend what his eyes were seeing. A hose lay at his feet, red wine soaked into the dirt around it. He threw open the door and followed the hose to the second tank. Still not sure exactly what had happened here he checked the tank. It was empty, barring the last layer of wine at the very bottom.
Pete staggered back. He looked around and then down at his boots which had left a muddy wine trail across the floor. He plucked his phone from his pocket and selected Ed's name. It took a while for his brother to answer.
“What time do you call this?” Ed's voice was croaky.
“We've been robbed.”
“Is this a joke?”
“No joke, Edward.” Pete looked around at his tanks. There could be others that were empty. He hadn't thought of that. “Get over to the winery. Someone's stolen our cab sauv and who knows what else.”
By the time he heard Ed's vehicle pull up outside, Pete had checked the other tanks. They were all full. He'd also checked the fermenters. Everything was as it should be, even the NS18.
He went out to meet Ed waving his mobile as he went. “I've called the police.”
“Was that necessary?”
“A whole tank of cab sauv is gone. I'd call that necessary, wouldn't you?”
Ed looked down at the wine-stained dirt and went to step past. Pete put a hand to his brother's chest. “I've already been clambering around in there. Probably better if we let the police take a look before we do any more.”
Ed shook his head. “I can't believe it. How?” He turned towards the gate. “You'd need a tanker to steal that much wine. How did
they get in?”
Pete started walking towards the gate. “Did you go through here last night?”
“No.”
“When we got back from the dinner, I found the gate wasn't locked but I swear I did it properly when we left.”
They set off towards the gate, Ed slightly ahead.
“Did you notice anything when you came through? You would have driven right past the shed.”
“I would have noticed a bloody tanker, that's for sure.” Pete thought about it. He and Taylor had been so intent on getting back to his place he'd hardly taken in anything else once he'd locked the gate behind them.
They came to a stop in front of the gate. It was padlocked like he'd left it last night. He got out his key to open it just as a police car turned onto the track from the road.
He flung the gates open in time with Ed's string of expletives.
Half an hour later, Pete huddled over coffee in the lunchroom waiting for CIB officers to arrive from the Mount. The policeman was young and new to the area. He'd called in reinforcements immediately. He was still outside keeping the crime area secure or some such thing.
Ed came through from the back of the winery. “Everything's okay out there.”
“I made you a coffee.”
“Thanks.” Ed sat down beside him.
Pete clutched the mug, trying to draw some warmth from it. “Our insurance should cover this, shouldn't it?”
“Of course but I thought you would have been more concerned. They've taken our top-of-the-range cab sauv.”
“Top of the range?”
“Your bloody next-best-thing-for-the-Coonawarra icon wine. The NS18.”
Pete gave him a guilty look. “It's still fermenting.”
“You've got it on the board in there.” Ed jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I just checked.”
Pete sat back. He'd never changed the whiteboard map. It was still labelled as NS18. Perhaps whoever had stolen it thought they were getting the NS18. He felt sick.
Ed scratched at his neck. “If it's not the NS18 that's gone, what was it?” His face was unshaven and his long hair had fallen forward over one eye. With the frown on his face it gave him a sinister appearance.
Pete studied him carefully. “The wine that was stolen was our entry-level cab sauv.”
Ed stood up bumping the table. “What have you done with the NS18 now?”
“Nothing. It's still fermenting.”
“Why don't you keep that bloody whiteboard up to date?” Ed waved one hand wildly towards the door.
Pete stood up too. “Maybe it's just as well I didn't.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because someone's stolen a whole tank of wine. The one that was marked on the whiteboard in my office with NS18.”
“So you don't think it was pot luck?”
Pete sank to his chair and put his head in his hands. “Maybe not,” he muttered. He really didn't want to think about the implications of someone looking at that whiteboard.
“But that would mean⦔ Ed thumped the table and swore. “That would mean it would have to be someone who had access to your office.”
Pete looked up at his brother with a heavy heart. “Yes.”
The front door opened and footsteps echoed across the office.
“Pete?” Taylor's voice was tinged with worry. She burst into the lunchroom and stopped as she looked from Pete to Ed and back again.
“What's going on? I saw the policeman and thought someone was hurt. He's got yellow tape everywhere.”
“No-one's hurt yet.” Ed smashed his fist into the palm of his hand.
Pete grimaced. “Some wine's been stolen.”
“Oh no.” Taylor crossed the room and wrapped her arms around his neck. She leaned forward and brushed her lips over his cheek.
He took her hands in his and gave them a firm pat. “It's only wine. No-one's hurt.”
“I see you two have obviously become close friends.”
Pete looked up into Ed's dark-blue eyes. A scowl twisted his brother's face making him look even more sinister.
Pete reached around and drew Taylor close beside him. He stood up so his arm was around her waist. “Yes, we are.” He kissed the top of Taylor's head. “Very close.”
Ed glared at him but Pete didn't look away. He'd hoped to break their news gently but there was no way round it now. Ed would have to deal with it.
Once more the sound of the front door opening distracted Pete.
“Mr Starr?” a deep voice called.
“Yes.” Ed and Pete answered together.
The policeman stuck his head into the room. “CIB are here. They'd like you to come outside.”
“What a mess.” Pete sat in front of the fire, his head resting on his hands.
Taylor's heart ached for him. It had been a terrible day. Not at all what she'd thought her Easter Sunday would be. Instead of a leisurely breakfast with Pete and eating chocolate eggs she'd spent her time answering questions, making cups of coffee and helping Noelene at the cellar door. Taylor thought ruefully about the chocolate eggs she had stashed at the quarters.
“What a day.” She sat on the seat next to him and held her hands to the fire. Music played. She'd have liked to turn it off. It was Pete's choice and it wasn't very relaxing. She glanced at him. “Thank goodness Antoine's back.”
He murmured something but he didn't look up.
Taylor reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “There's nothing more you can do now.”
He lifted his head and stared at the fire. “Who did this? That's what bothers me more than anything.”
“The police will sort it out.”
“I'm sure they will.”
Taylor put her head to one side. “Don't you want to find out?”
“That will be the terrible part.” Pete turned the full force of his clear blue eyes to her. She saw the despair on his face. It frightened her.
“What's the matter, Pete?”
“It has to be someone we know, someone close, someone who has a very good idea of what happens day-to-day at our winery.”
“Does it?” Taylor had imagined a faceless stranger stealing the
wine.
“The place wasn't broken in to.”
“Couldn't they have come from the gate on Ed's side of the property?” She remembered the first night Ed had brought her to his place at Wriggly Creek. His gate had been open then and he hadn't shut it, let alone locked it.
“They'd have to drive right through the property, past Ed's house, my place. Anyway the track isn't really wide enough for a truck. The police checked. They didn't find any tyre tracks.”
“Maybe someone left the main winery gate unlocked.”
“Maybe they did.” His eyes narrowed.
“On purpose, you mean?”
“I am sure I locked the gate when we went to Coonawarra but it wasn't locked when we got back.”
“But whoâ¦?” Taylor felt a chill run through her despite the fire. Now she knew what Pete meant. A log slipped inside the fire sending up a spray of sparks and the thudding beat of the music seemed to grow louder.
“It wasn't me and it wasn't you.”
She gave him a little smile. “I'm glad you've ruled us out.”
Pete turned his gaze back to the fire. “But that only leaves Antoine and Ed.”
Taylor studied his profile. His jaw was clenched.
“Or Ben, or Noelene, or Felicity.” She tapped her fingers.
“None of them have a motive.”
“Why would Antoine do it?”
“That's the problem.” Once more Pete turned his sad gaze on her. “I don't think he did.”
“So you think it's⦔ Taylor couldn't bring herself to say it.
“Edward. My brother is the only one with a motive.”
“Why would he steal his own wine?”
“Yes, tell me why I'd do that?”
They both leapt to their feet. Edward was standing in the entrance to the lobby that led to the back door. He grasped a
sixpack of beer to his chest.
“I knocked,” he said, “but you were obviously so caught up in your conspiracy theory you didn't hear me.”
The two brothers glared at each other.
“Why don't we sit down and have a drink,” Taylor said. “It's been a long day.”
“That's what I thought.” Ed didn't look in her direction. He kept his glare on Pete. “Now I'm more interested in finding out why my brother thinks I would steal my own wine.”
Pete sighed. “Come and sit down.”
“I'd rather stand thanks, better to face my accuser on my feet.”
“All right, Edward.” Pete took a couple of steps towards his brother. His voice rose a notch. The music continued to thud around them. “I'll tell you why I think you're the one who stole the wine. You've been trying to sell the NS18 since before it was picked.”
“But it wasn't the NS18 that was stolen.” Ed's voice was low, controlled. “Why would I steal a tank of entry-level cab sauv?”
“You said yourself you thought the tank held the NS18.”
“I didn't know that for sure. You keep swapping things round without telling anyone.”
“Perhaps that's just as well if people are going to help themselves to it.”
“And when was I to get the opportunity to drive my tanker in and spend the time it would take to empty the tank?”
“I didn't say you actually did it, but you could have organised it.”
“Why would I do that, Peter?”
“Insurance?”
“What about it?”
“You've been trying to raise money. Perhaps you arranged for someone else to take it. You were here alone last night. You made sure we were out of the way.”
A flicker of surprise passed over Ed's face.
“You arranged for us to go for dinner,” Pete said. “Then you stayed home. There was no-one else here.”
Ed's eyes opened wide. “I wasn't stealing wine.”