Sinfandel (16 page)

Chapter Twenty-five

W
hile the fencing contractor set corner posts and checked his bubble-level on a yellow string he’d pulled taut between them, I prepared to install the doggie-door I’d purchased from the home security company.  Just as I was about to drill the first hole in the front door, my phone rang.  It was Monica

“Want to have lunch?  I’m buying,” she said.

“I never turn down a free meal these days.”

I cleaned up and met her at her favorite place, Rosetti’s.  She was already there waiting for me.  I sat down and ordered a salad.

 “How’s that vineyard manager guy you told me about?  Any new developments?”

“Nope.”  I gazed around the restaurant.  “Sure is hot.”

“Uh oh.  What’d he do?” 

“Nothing.”

“Don’t give me that.  You start talking about the weather when I ask you about the only romantic interest you’ve had in ten years, I know there’s something up.”

I took a deep breath, then explained to her about my hopes for buying the Zucker vineyard and Andy’s response when I asked him about a partnership.  She’d stop me every once in a while to ask a question, or to ask me to repeat something.  By the time I’d re-hashed yesterday’s entire conversation to her, I realized how foolish I’d been.

“You think he’s still going to give you the dog?” she asked.  “I mean, now that he realizes you’re a lunatic?”

I rested my forehead in my palms and shook my head.  “What was I thinking?  I knew better.”

The waitress brought our lunches.  “You okay, honey?”

I nodded and took my elbows off the table so she could put the salad in front of me.

Monica reached over and took the mushroom slices off my salad and dropped them on hers.  “You want that pepperoncini?” she asked, pointing with her fork at the yellow pepper on my plate.

“Yes.”

“How about the beets?”

I nodded.

“The radishes?”

“I want it all,” I said, crouching over my plate like a cat protecting its tuna.

“And therein lies your problem.”  The wise Doctor Monica P. Radosovich was preparing to enlighten me.

“Will I get a bill for the counseling session I’m about to receive?”

“No, veterinary services only apply to animals.”

“Good,” I said, then braced myself.  “I’m ready.”

“Have you noticed that ever since Roger, you’ve ambushed every relationship you’ve ever
almost
been in?”

“You think—?”

“It’s a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question.”

As I shook my head, Monica’s chin moved up and down in a nod intended to convince me to change my answer.

I stopped moving my head at all and waited for the next bit of insight.

“Every relationship is a risk,” she said.  “You can’t win if you don’t play.”

“So it’s like the lottery.”

“In a way.”

“You do realize the odds of winning are something like three-billion to one.”

“Aw, hell.  We can’t all hit the jackpot.  I’m just saying, if you throw out every ticket, you have a one-hundred-percent chance of losing.”

“Enough with the gambling analogy.  Can we eat?”

“You’re right,” she said, taking a bite of salad.  “I should have stuck with my ‘one bad apple’ talk anyway.”

By the time we finished lunch I felt like an idiot and realized I’d have to apologize to Andy.  But first, I had to install the doggie-door. 

After cutting the hole in my door, I turned the radio on to country music to ease my frustration as I tried to shove the plastic frame into the apparently too-small hole.  A thin layer of sweat formed on my forehead as I pushed and pried, with no luck.

The radio announcer talked about record-breaking temperatures and how the heat was sending some people to emergency rooms.  As I lay on my back on the living-room carpet with both feet pressed firmly against the doggie-door frame, the news on the radio caught my attention.

“More shots were reported last night on Highway Forty-nine near the community of Grass Valley.  Two vehicles were hit and one driver received moderate injuries after his car left the road surface and rolled over.”

Gaping at the stereo across the room, I barely noticed when the frame snapped into place.  I got to my feet and called Dave at the CHP and left him a message to call me.

It was difficult to concentrate for the rest of the afternoon.  The fence contractor hung the gate then handed me the final bill.  I stared at it for a long time, then he finally said, “You want to put the balance on your card?”

I nodded and signed the paper where he told me to.  After he left, I called Andy.

“I’m sorry for yesterday,” I said, before he had a chance to say anything.  “I don’t know what came over me.”

“Don’t worry about it.  Is your fence ready?”

“It is.  Can Tony come home now?”

“We’ll be right over.”

After we hung up, it occurred to me that Andy was one of the most gracious people I knew.  Unlike Roger, he didn’t gloat.  That’s what made my decision to cut my ties with Andy even harder.

Tony made three high-speed laps around his new yard while Andy and I watched him from the front porch.  It only took him five minutes to figure out he could go in and out of the house through the doggie door.  After that, I gave him some Puppy Chow and showed him his toy box, which had accumulated a few more items since the last time he’d seen it.  When he finally wore out, he plopped down in his dog bed in the bedroom and took a nap with his new favorite toy, a floppy version of Daffy Duck.

Andy made himself comfortable in my glider chair and put his feet up on the ottoman.

“Thanks for bringing him over,” I said, standing by the front door like a stewardess ready to de-plane him.

He nodded toward the sofa.  “Sit down.  We need to talk.”

“About what?”

“About yesterday.”

Oh great.  Here comes the ‘let her down easy’ talk.  I sat down on the far end of the sofa.  “There’s nothing to talk about.  I’ve made other arrangements.”

“Really?  How’d you manage that?”  He said it as if he knew I had lied.

“I’m going to buy it myself.  I can use my vineyard as collateral.”

“You own this property outright?”  He seemed surprised.

“No, but I have equity.”

“Enough?”

“Yes.  I talked to the lender this morning and he said everything looks good.”  I’ve never been a good liar.  The octave of my voice rises and I sound like a helium addict—at least that’s how I perceive it.

 “That’s too bad.”  Andy stared down at his hands, folded in his lap.  “I liked the idea of being your partner.”

I felt a panic attack building in the pit of my stomach.  This was not how it was supposed to go.  I was not destined to win the relationship lottery.  It could only end one of two ways: bad or really horrible.  I would eventually let my guard down and get my hopes up, then he would find some way to kill all my hopes and dreams.  The dog was a much safer bet.

“Well, I’m sorry I even mentioned it.  I don’t do well with partners.  I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Who was your last partner?” he asked, challenging me.

Staring out the window, I said, “Can we talk about something else?”

“What are you afraid of, Kate?”

I looked directly at him.  “You.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

Shaking my head, I said, “I don’t trust anyone anymore.”

We sat there in silence for a full minute before he finally stood up and walked to the door.  “Have it your way.”  He opened the door, then said, “But me and Maybell are coming over at least twice a week so she can play with her brother.  Any problem with that?”

My plan had been to tell him that I didn’t want to see him anymore.  I’d find a new vineyard manager before next harvest and we’d just part ways, but instead, I smiled and shook my head.

“Good.” 

And then he was gone.

I spent the rest of the afternoon playing with Tony or watching him sleep.  Every two hours I took him outside to his official potty spot and he would do his business.  I was convinced the dog was born potty trained.

Dave finally returned my call just after five. 

“Did you catch Roger?” I asked, chewing my thumbnail.

“Haven’t you heard?”

“Heard what?”  Tony trotted into the kitchen and gazed at me with his head cocked to one side, looking concerned.

“They caught the sniper, Kate.  Early this morning.  CHP picked him up after his car broke down between Grass Valley and Auburn.”

 “The Mustang?”  Tony followed me into the living room and I eased down onto the sofa. 

“Yeah.  Turns out it wasn’t blue and white after all.  It was two-toned blue.  The light blue looked like white in the moonlight.”

“So it wasn’t Roger?”

“No.  Some guy named Bart Shankel.  Real mental case.”

“Thanks, Dave.”

I hung up the phone and got down on the floor to pat Tony’s little pink belly.  After weeks of worrying, I finally felt a ton of anxiety suddenly lift off my shoulders.

Chapter Twenty-six

E
arly the next morning, Tony followed me up to the barn to feed the horses.  All the cats scattered as Tony loped after each of them.  Eventually, the cats found their way to the top of the hay stack and taunted him from above.

Losing interest in the cats, he watched as I crawled through the fence to check Buster and Emlie for any cuts, scrapes, bumps or bruises.  Emlie snorted at him through the rails and sent Tony into a barking fit.  When we were done terrorizing the cats and feeding the horses, we went back to the house to play a few rounds of fetch.

I had a lunch appointment with Quinn Adamson to go over my progress on the Zinfandel discrepancy project, so I’d have to leave Tony on his own for a few hours.  Already convinced he was a prodigy, I left the doggie door unlocked so he could go outside to the fenced yard if he wanted.  “Don’t let any raccoons in,” I told him as I filled his food and water bowls.

By the time I arrived at the restaurant, Quinn had already gotten us a table and was chatting with a waitress.

“Sorry I’m late,” I said as I tossed my purse into the booth seat and set my file folders on the table.  “I had to stop and put gas in my pickup.”

“They still have your car impounded?”

“I’m afraid they’ve taken it apart and can’t figure out how to put it back together again.” 

Quinn laughed, but I wasn’t so sure I was too far off.

After we ordered, I took my notes out of the folder and looked them over.  “I haven’t been able to narrow the suspect vineyards down any further,” I said.  “Did O’Reilly and Parker come up with anything?”

Quinn shook his head.  “They’ve been staking out a few wineries to see if they spot any unusual activity.  So far they haven’t turned up anything.”

The waitress brought our iced teas.  As I squeezed a lemon wedge in mine, I said, “So they’re pulling some all nighters, I guess.”

Quinn gave me a curious look.  “What do you mean?”

“The guy’s too smart to deliver his loads during the day while the State Inspector’s on site.  He’s probably bringing the grapes in late at night or very early in the morning.”

“Good point.”  Quinn jotted down a note and slipped it in his pocket.  “I’ll check with them to see what schedule they’re on.”

“The delivery time’s in the database.  I’ll run a query of the after-hour loads.  Maybe that’ll narrow it down even more.”

“If we could just find a common denominator, maybe we could dig up a name,” Quinn said.

“I’ve cross-checked every column in the database.  I can’t find any reference to a particular person.  Is there any way we can get more information from the wineries?”

“Like what?”

“Anything.  We probably won’t know what it is we’re looking for until we see it.”  I took a bite of my salad, then had a thought.  “It’d be nice if we could pinpoint the trucking company.  The drivers probably aren’t in on the scam, but they could lead us to the vineyards.”

Quinn scratched his chin and nodded.  “I’ll see what I can get my hands on.”

“Any idea when I’ll start getting paid in real money?”

Avoiding any direct eye contact, he shoveled food into his mouth and shook his head.

 The meeting with Quinn took longer than I’d expected.  I checked my watch as I left the restaurant and chewed my bottom lip.  Tony’s afternoon feeding would be late. 

As I was about to start the pickup, my cell phone rang.  It was Pete.

“Hey, I have good news,” he said.  “I think I found you a partner.”

To my surprise, the news didn’t make me particularly happy.  All sorts of worst-case-scenarios raced through my mind.  What if the guy wants too much control—
any
control would be too much for me.  What if I just don’t like him?  I’d be stuck with him.  “What’s his name?”

“I’ll stop by tomorrow and give you all the information.  You’ll like this guy.  He lives out of state so he won’t be in your hair.”

Out of state.  I did like the sound of that.  “Okay, I guess.”

“Don’t get so excited, Kate,” Pete said.  “I only made two hundred calls to find this deal for you.”

“Sorry, Pete.  I really do appreciate it.  I just have a lot on my mind.”

“No problem.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Stop and go traffic on the freeway made my trip twice as long as it should have.  I was anxious to get home to see how Tony was doing.  I turned up the radio and tried to think of something other than partners, finances, and Andy.  I’d almost succeeded when a loud bang and a sudden jerk banged my head against the seat’s headrest.  After the initial shock wore off, I regained my bearings and realized I’d just been rear-ended.  I took a few deep breaths, turned on my emergency flashers, then eased my door open and stepped out of the pickup.

“Are you okay?” the other driver said as he, too, climbed out of his car.

“Yeah.  You?”

He nodded.  “I’m so sorry.  It was completely my fault.”

That went without saying, but I didn’t voice it.  We met at the point of impact and gazed at the damage.  Luckily for me, my trailer hitch took the brunt of the blow, but the car, a brand new Camaro still sporting dealer plates, looked like the loser of a jousting match.  It was candy-apple red with two black racing stripes down the now creased hood, and a gaping hole between them.  Steam billowed out of the radiator and anti-freeze pooled on the road under the engine. 

“Oh man.  I hope you have insurance,” I said.

A tear rolled down his face.  “I just bought this for my wife.  It’s our anniversary.  She hasn’t even seen it yet.”

Apparently, his wife was one of the lucky ones who had won the relationship lottery.  “I’m sure she’ll understand.  A new hood…” I leaned over and looked closer.  “A new radiator and bumper.  They’ll have it good as new.”

He didn’t look too confident. 

“How many years?” I asked.

“Seven.”

“Heck, next year you’ll both look back on this and laugh.  It’ll make a great story to tell your kids.”

A brief smile flashed on his face, then it was gone.  A CHP officer arrived and right behind him, a tow truck.  The officer, tow-truck driver, and grieving husband gazed at the Camaro.  I thought they might all start crying.

By the time I got home, it was nearly six.  Poor Tony had been home alone most of the day.  I didn’t see him in the yard as I drove in.  He must’ve been waiting inside for me.  I unlocked the back door, expecting to be greeted by a joyful puppy.  Instead, I found a quiet house.

“Tony,” I called as I punched in the alarm code.

Nothing.

“Where are you?  Sleeping?”  I peered in the bedroom, but his bed was empty.  “Tony?”  He wasn’t in the kitchen, either.  “Tony!”  I checked every room.  He was not in the house.  I opened the front door and raced outside.  “Tony!”  Walking along the new fence line, I called him again.  He was nowhere to be seen, but I did find the hole he’d dug under the fence to escape.

Buster and Emlie nickered at me from the pasture.  They probably witnessed the entire breakout.  “Maybe he’s in the barn, tormenting the cats,” I told myself as I rushed back through the house and out the back door.  But all that greeted me in the barn were three unhappy cats and an empty cat-food dish under the Wonder feeder.  “Is food all you guys care about?” I said to the glaring faces.  “Which way did he go?”

No one was telling.  I had the feeling they’d be happy if Tony never came back.

After putting on some boots, I headed for the pasture to begin the search.  “Tony!” I called over and over, but he didn’t respond.

The horses followed me in my quest.  Maybe they realized dinner would have to wait until after the dog was found.  After searching the upper and lower pastures, I saddled Buster and took off into the vineyard.  Peering down every row, I saw no trace of him.  By the time I’d made my way around the entire vineyard, it was almost dark.  My voice was raspy from calling him.

I unsaddled Buster and threw some hay over the fence. After grabbing a flashlight, I headed for the cave.

“Tony!”

The crime scene tape was still stretched across the mouth of the cave.  I ripped it down and marched in, shining the light on the floor.  Hunched over due to the low ceiling, I waved the light back and forth as I made my way deep into the cave.  A bat fluttered past me and made me jump.  When I reached the back wall, the cave turned to the right and led me to the other entrance.  Tony was not there.

Outside the cave, I pushed my way through the willows and started toward the creek.  There was a rustling noise up ahead so I stopped to listen.  I heard more scraping sounds and something like a hiss. 

“Tony!”

And then I heard his little bark.

“Tony!  Where are you?!”

Running in the dark, I tripped over a fallen tree branch and skinned my elbows.  When I got up and brushed myself off, I spotted a flash of white near the creek bank.

“Tony!”

He had treed something and was intent on not breaking eye-contact with it.  As I got closer, I realized he had found the raccoons’ den.  A dozen pairs of eyes stared down at me from the branches of a huge oak tree.  In the middle of the trunk was a large, hollowed-out knot hole.

When he realized it was me, Tony forgot all about the raccoons and greeted me with his wiggly body and dog kisses wherever he could make contact with skin.

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” I said as I picked him up and hugged him.  “Are you okay?”

Checking him over, it was clear he was not hurt.  I set him down and shined the light up at the raccoon family.

“Yeah, you better be scared.  He may be small now, but he’s mighty.”

Standing on tip-toe, I aimed the light inside the knot hole.  Their den was large and impressive.  Wedged against the wall was a pink and green pack of some sort.  I reached in and tried to grab it, but I couldn’t reach it.  When I glanced around for something to snag it with, Tony was at my feet with a stick he’d found.  Perfect.

I used the stick to fish the pack out of the den.  Shining the light on the object, I could see it was a small back-pack.  It was torn and tattered and had a hole chewed through to the inside, probably by the thieves who took it.  Turning it over, I found some black writing on it, but dirt had covered half the letters and it was hard to read.  I wiped it off as best I could until the letters became clear.  I felt my knees go weak. 

In bold print: Beth Messina.