I laughed. “You’re spoiled here in Virginia, you know that. In California you make the same wine every year since your weather is sunshine and more sunshine. Here it’s like Bordeaux and you can experiment your blending little heart out because every year the weather is different from the year before. Or the year before that.”
“I’ll ignore that highly oversimplified comment and chalk it up to ignorance,” he said. “You make it sound like California is the land of homogenized wine.”
“
“Not true,” he said. “California winemakers may have a lot less variation in their harvests from year to year, but we must be doing something right. Remember the ‘Judgment of Paris’?”
I did. Everyone in the wine world did.
More than thirty years ago a small wineshop in Paris sponsored a blind tasting of French and California wines. To everyone’s astonishment—not least of all the French—the California wines won hands down. The event made worldwide news thanks to a
“Talking about judgments—” I said as the sweep of headlights coming into the driveway flashed through the front parlor window. “They’re here.”
“Yup.” He stood and helped me up, handing me my cane. “Show time.”
Chapter 22
“Listen to me,” Quinn said as the doorbell rang. “We’re going to play this as good cop, bad cop. Okay?”
“Sure,” I said. “Which one am I?”
“Go answer the door.”
Kyra’s fashion sense—and her attitude—hadn’t changed since I saw her at the Point-to-Point. Dressed in black from head-to-toe, lots of metal. In need of a bath or a dose of flea powder.
I led her and Amanda into the parlor where Quinn waited and invited them to have a seat. Amanda sat on the sofa. Kyra stood where she was.
“You were asked to sit down,” Quinn said to Kyra. “Do it.”
I’d only heard him use that tone of voice a couple of times since I’d known him. She sat. Quinn leaned against the fireplace mantel and glared at her. I sat in the wing chair opposite them, hands in my lap.
Kyra resumed her sullen hostility while I questioned her about what she’d done. Finally Quinn, who’d been growing increasingly exasperated, said, “Do you know why you’re here?”
“Yeah. Because if I didn’t come she’d call the sheriff on me.”
“Is that so?” A muscle twitched in Quinn’s jaw. “The right answer, sweetheart, is that you came to explain why you did what you did—and apologize for it.”
“Sorry.”
Quinn looked like he wanted to flog her. I caught his eye. We weren’t going to get anywhere with her.
“Kyra,” Amanda said, warning her.
“I said, ‘Sorry.’”
“Don’t go into acting,” Quinn said. “I don’t think you’ve got much of a future.”
I glanced at him again and shook my head slightly.
“Do you realize how much trouble you could be in if a horse went over the fence you tampered with and the rider took a spill?” I asked. “Eight years ago something spooked my mother’s horse so he threw her going over a jump. She broke her neck and died in the ambulance.”
That got through to her. Her eyes, raccoonlike with too much eyeliner and mascara, widened and, for the first time, she looked scared.
“Did you booby trap another jump that your mother didn’t find?” I asked. “Do anything else we need to know about?”
“No,” she said.
Quinn pointed a finger at her. “If you are lying, my dear…” He didn’t finish.
“I’m not. I didn’t. I promise.” Her words came out in a rush.
“All right,” I said. “I believe you.”
She nodded and I could see her start to relax.
“We’re not done yet,” I said. “I expect you to clean the pillars and the stone wall. They need to look exactly like they did before you threw paint on them.”
“Where’ll I get the water?” she said.
“I’m sure you’ll figure out something,” I said.
“It’ll take forever.”
“No. But it will take a while.”
“Why did you do it?” Quinn asked.
Kyra looked at him warily. “I dunno. I don’t like foxhunting, I guess.” She glanced over at her mother and said, “I think it’s stupid. People who do it are stupid.”
Amanda had looked like she’d been biting her tongue ever since she walked into the room. Now her face flushed dull red.
“That’s enough, Kyra. Time to go.” If Amanda’s words had been in a little balloon above her head, they would have been encased in ice.
“I don’t foxhunt,” I said.
“No, but you let them do it.” She jerked her head toward Amanda. “Your farm’s part of their territory.”
“It’s one of several farms. Why single me out?”
She cocked her head and shrugged. “I heard my parents talking about that woman who died when her car went into Goose Creek. And how you’re trying to find out something she was going to tell you,” she said. “I thought maybe you’d wonder if someone was after you, too. And you’d be scared enough to cancel the hunt.”
Quinn and I exchanged glances. I cleared my throat. “I see.”
Amanda’s face was a mixture of anger and embarrassment. “I’ll deal with her at home,” she said to us.
“And we’ll see her tomorrow,” Quinn said. He glanced at Kyra. “Right?”
She nodded, with a trace of the old sulkiness.
“Oh, don’t you worry. She’ll be here as soon as school’s out,” Amanda said.
“Excellent,” I said. “In that case, I think this conversation’s over.”
Quinn and I walked them to Amanda’s Range Rover.
“We’re not quite done,” Quinn said. He walked over to the carriage house and opened the door. When he came out he was holding the plastic bag with Freddie’s remains in it. “This is yours. And this.”
He handed her the bag and her studded collar.
Kyra took them silently, her eyes downcast. She held the collar like it was made of something heavy. I knew she realized that was how she’d been caught.
“That stuffed animal was the last gift you got from your grandfather before he died, Ky,” Amanda said. “Put the bag in the trunk and wait in the car.”
She obeyed, still quiet.
“I apologize again for my daughter,” Amanda said. “Like I said, her father and I will discipline her.”
“I think she’s been punished enough,” I said. “Hopefully she’s scared now, too. I’m sure it won’t happen again. See you tomorrow for the meet?”
She nodded. “Thank you.”
“I’ll open the south gate first thing in the morning,” Quinn said. “That way you and the rest of the hunt don’t have to ride through the main entrance if you don’t want to.”
“No one knows about Freddie but us,” I said. “As for the paint at the front gate, if anyone asks, it was probably someone’s idea of a pre-Halloween prank.”
“You don’t have to do that but I’m grateful.”
She got into her car and drove off.
“I think that put a definite chill in our friendship,” I said.
