“Okay,” Pastor Tim said. “Charles has been here a few times dropping off paperwork. He knows how to get here.”
“I’m driving today,” Teagan said. “I’ll get directions from Caroline.”
“Okay. See you when you get here,” Pastor Tim said.
Teagan hung up and called Caroline. “I need to get to Timothy Morrison’s rectory. How do I do that?”
“I can text you directions,” Caroline said hesitantly.
“How are you going to get them?” Teagan asked.
“I’m going to Google them.”
“Well, if you can do it, I can do it.”
“You can actually get directions on the GPS in your car,” she said a smile in her voice. “You’ll just need his address.”
“So text it to me.” He hung up the phone and waited for the ping letting him know she’d sent a message. Then he set to figuring out how to get the directions to Pastor’s Tim on his own.
Chapter Twenty
Forty-five minutes later, Teagan arrived at Pastor Tim’s rectory, which should have only taken him half an hour. It took him fifteen minutes to figure out how to work his in-dash GPS.
Teagan tried on the drive over to formulate a series of questions about that night that would lend itself to the possibility that, what he’d known as the truth the last twenty something years wasn’t. That what all the facts really amounted to was murder.
After not coming up with anything viable, he decided to wing it.
Pastor Tim sat behind a large desk that was covered with papers and books. A bookcase that covered the whole wall behind him, was spilling over with them, and on an adjacent wall, a small wood burning brick fireplace with a white mantle was stacked with even more. He had on reading glasses, a shirt with a collar and an older brown cardigan. He was writing on a yellow legal pad when his assistant showed Teagan in.
“Morning,” the pastor said and looked at his watch. “Yep, it’s still morning.” He stood up. “C’mon in, Teagan.” He gestured to a chair that was in front of the simple wooden desk. “Just trying to catch up on some work.”
“Glad you could see me this morning.”
“Always time for you,” Pastor Tim said and smiled. “Especially after last night. I was kind of worried about you. I didn’t know if you’d be feeling any better today.”
“Was I sick last night?” Teagan asked.
Pastor Tim turned his head and narrowed his eyes. “I thought you were,” he said. “Either that, or . . . Well. I hadn’t seen you drink anything.”
“I just don’t remember much of it.”
“So you were drinking?”
“No.” Teagan shook his head. “No. I wasn’t drinking. Just,” he shrugged. “Just kind of out of it. I guess being in the house for the last time was kind of . . . I don’t know – overwhelming.”
“I understand,” Pastor Tim said. He pulled his glasses off from where they’d been perched on his nose and sat them on the desk. “I really found it surprising that you’d sell it all off. I mean your grandmother loved that place.”
“I know she did, and even with how much I loved her . . . Love her . . . two days ago I would have told you I didn’t care.”
“You care now?”
Teagan took in a breath. “It sounds so bad that I didn’t care before.” He looked at the pastor.
Tim didn’t say anything. He wanted to let Teagan speak in his own time, and be able to discuss whatever it was he needed to say.
“I think maybe I had suppressed those feelings,” Teagan said. “My love that I had for that place when I was younger.” He looked over at the wall. He shut his eyes momentarily trying to put his thoughts into words. “I think the pain of losing my grandmother somehow was entangled with the house and vineyard.”
“That’s understandable, Teagan. You were very young. Very impressionable. And your grandmother was your world.”
“Yes, she was.”
“And it was what she loved about the place that eventually took her from you.”
“The wine.”
Pastor Tim nodded. “The vineyard. The cellar. The house. You. All those things together were her life. A life she wanted you to continue. One that she wanted you to take care of.”
“I know,” Teagan said. “That’s why I sold it to Yvonne Giordano. I knew she was the only other person my grandmother would have wanted to have it, and I knew she would love it like my grandmother wanted me to.”
Pastor Tim frowned. “What makes you think that?”
“What do you mean?” Teagan asked.
“You do know that Yvonne and your grandmother didn’t get along.”
“They were good friends.”
“No.” Pastor Tim shook his head. “They weren’t.”
Teagan popped up out of his seat and walked over to the fireplace. He swiped his hand across his forehead.
Pastor Tim continued, “Olivia and Yvonne had long been rivals. They knew each other when they were young, and I can’t remember a time when they got along. You didn’t know that?”
“No,” Teagan said. He felt his eye starting to twitch, and swiped a finger over it. “I didn’t know that.” He paced back and forth across the floor. “How could I have known that? What happened?”
“Initially your grandfather happened. Yvonne had a crush on him, but she didn’t have a chance once he laid eyes on Olivia. He married her, gave her everything she wanted, including the vineyard and house.” Pastor Tim fiddled with his glasses. “Yvonne was heartbroken. She did everything she could to mimic Olivia’s life.” He shook his head. “Like that would make up for it.” He shifted his weight in his seat. “She searched and searched until she found someone to marry her that she thought could give her the life she wanted.”
“Peter Giordano?” Teagan asked.
“Yep. An unwitting, newly immigrated, Italian who knew nothing about a vineyard. She coerced him into buying the land next to your grandparents.”
“Why didn’t I ever know any of this?”
“I guess because you were twelve,” Pastor Tim said. “Children aren’t often a part of an adult’s business.”
“Yes. I guess you’re right. But Yvonne told me that my grandmother would have wanted her to have the land.”
“She told you that?”
“Yes. She did,” Teagan said.
“Well, that certainly isn’t true. Your grandmother didn’t want anyone but you to have that land. I thought you knew that.”
“How do you know all of this?” Teagan asked.
Pastor Tim took in a breath and lowered his head. “Your grandfather was not the only one smitten with your grandmother.”
“You knew her back then.”
“I did. And to be honest with you, I loved her from the day I met her in the fifth grade.”
“Wow,” Teagan said and sat back down. He covered his head with his hands.
“And since I’m letting the cat out of the bag, I may as well tell you that I wasn’t the only one that felt that way about Olivia.”
“You mean that cared about her?”
“Loved her. And yes that’s what I meant.”
“Who else?” Teagan asked.
“Viktor Gustov.”
“Gustov was in love with my grandmother?”
“Yes.” Pastor Tim started fidgeting with his fingers. “He thought he had a chance with her. His actions were very irritating to me, as well as to Olivia.”
Teagan thought about how he’d heard his grandmother speak to Gustov the night before when he had time travelled. She did seem annoyed with him.
“I just don’t understand why someone didn’t tell me these things after I grew up. When I was put in charge of the house and the grounds,” Teagan said.
“Well, Teagan, after your grandmother died, you led a life that didn’t include the house, the vineyard or any of her friends.” Elbows resting on desk, Pastor Tim placed his fisted hands under his chin. “You distanced yourself.”
“Even so, I just don’t
understand how I could have been so blind.”
“There’s still time to open your eyes and see the truth.”
Teagan nodded, his whole body rocking. “That’s what I’m here to do. Why I wanted to speak with you.”
“I’m intrigued,” Pastor Tim said. “I don’t think you’ve ever been here before.”
Teagan looked around the room. “No. I guess I haven’t,” he said. “Seems like that’s one more thing on my list I need to rectify.”
“What’s that?”
“Seeing about the people I care about.”
Pastor Tim smiled.
Teagan opened his mouth to speak and then closed it. He didn’t know any easy way to start the conversation. “Pastor Tim, I’ve come to believe that maybe my grandmother didn’t . . .” Teagan paused. “Didn’t die the way I’d always thought.”
“And how is that?” Pastor Tim asked.
“By accident.”
“Wait.” Pastor Tim shook his head to clear it of what Teagan was saying to him. “You don’t think it was an accident?”
“No. I don’t and neither did my father.”
“Your father?” Pastor said, surprise in his voice. “I never heard Stuart mention anything about it being anything other than an accident.”
“He had just figured it out when he died. He’d only been able to share it with one other person.” Teagan looked at Pastor Tim. “That I know of.”
“Well he definitely didn’t share it with me.” Pastor Tim held up his hand. “What is it, Teagan, that makes you think otherwise?”
“Someone showed me something yesterday, and I believe it was shown to me for a reason.”
“What was shown to you?”
Teagan studied the Pastor out of the corner of his eye weighing whether he should share what happened with the pastor. “Let’s just say that things went a lot differently then I’d been led to believe.”
“And that equates to murder.”
“I think it’s enough to look into it.”
“I don’t know what you could have found.”
“I’m just wondering what you know,” Teagan said.
“About murder?” Pastor Tim said. “About Olivia being murdered?”
“Yes. Exactly. About murder. Her murder.”
“I don’t know anything,” Pastor Tim said. He stopped and thought for a moment. “Nothing I can think of would make me think of murder.”
“What do you know about that night?”
“Well. Let me think.” Pastor Tim sat quietly, contemplating. Then he slowly shook his head. “She went to take a bottle of wine back down to the cellar, and the rack fell down on her.”
“Who told you she was returning a bottle of wine.”
Father Tim tilted his head. “I don’t know, come to think of it.” He tilted his head the other way. “I think that it must have been said at the time.”
“The bottle she was supposed to be returning didn’t belong in the room where she died.”
“It didn’t?” the pastor said. “I didn’t know much about her wine cellar. She didn’t let many people down there.”
“Did she ever let you go down there?”
Pastor Tim picked up his pen and tapped it on his desk. “She was pretty strict,” he shrugged. “But, yes, she allowed me down there a time or two.”
“Do you know anyone that may have wanted to kill my grandmother?” Teagan asked.
“I don’t,” Pastor Tim said. “I never gave any thought to it. Never had a reason to think that it was anything other than an accident.”
“Well now that I’m telling you it could have been something more, do you have any ideas?”
“The only person I could think of that would have the temperament and reason to do such a thing is . . . .” His voice trailed off and he held his lips tight.
“Go ahead. Tell me what you think,” Teagan said.
“I don’t know if I should say.”
“I’d appreciate if you would. It isn’t any kind of formal investigation and I think I need to hash this out, so I can move on.”
Well, if I had to say,” Pastor Tim said slowly. “I would say it was Viktor Gustov.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Teagan didn’t need any help finding out how to get to Gabrisette House. He got back in his car and decided to go and pay a visit to his grandmother’s old chef. Viktor Gustov.
Still the house chef for the events held at Gabrisette House, Gustov was now, in his mind, the number one suspect in the murder of his grandmother. Teagan left Pastor Tim’s with renewed vigor. What kind of secrets was the chef keeping? And would any of them lend themselves to murder?
Teagan pulled up into the circular drive and put the car in Park, but he didn’t get out. Instead he stared at the doors of the house, remembering what Caroline had suggested.
An enchanted house.
Perhaps walking back through those doors would send him back again. Back for another chance.
He got out of the car and was anxious as he walked up to the doors at Gabrisette House. He laughed nervously at the prospect of time traveling again. He pulled it opened, and holding his breath and closing his eyes, he stepped inside.
Then he opened them.
A sign in the middle of the foyer floor pointed to the parlor – now the office read, “Please Check in Here.”
He’d only travelled inside.
Okay. So it wasn’t the doors.
He blew out the breath and poked his head in the office door and saw a young woman sitting at the desk.
“Mr. Bales.” She stood up, an obligatory, but surprised smile on her face. “Hello. Can I help you with something?”
“No,” he said. “I came by to speak to Gustov, but thought I would let you know I was in the house.”
She blinked her eyes and raised her brows. “Okay.” She smiled. “First time, isn’t it?”
“Yes. In a way it is,” he said.
“Okay,” she said and smiled politely. “Did you need me to show you where anything is?”
“No.” He looked around. “I used to live here.”
“Oh yes,” she said and her face went flush. “Of course.”
“I need to get the name of the company that dismantled the wine cellar. Do you think we still have that information?”
“I’m sure we do. Do you need me to call them for you?”
“No.” Teagan paused. “On second thought. What I want is the address,” Teagan said thinking he didn’t want to say the wrong thing over the phone. “I’ll stop by their offices and see if can’t find someone who remembers it to talk to.”
“Okay,” she said and hopped up from her seat. “I’ll get it right away.”
“No rush,” Teagan said and held up his hand. “I need to speak with Chef Gustov. I’ll be a few minutes.” He smiled. “And call Caroline. You have her number?”
“Of course.”
“Tell her that I’m here.”
“Certainly,” she said.
Teagan stepped back from the doorway and turned to head down the narrow hallway to the left of the staircase, but instead turned and went through the sitting room. Leaving out the other side of it, he landed in the hallway that went past the library. Walking to it, he stopped and opened one of the doors and stared into the empty space.
“Time travel,” he said aloud remembering the sisters’ explanation of how he ended up at a party that happened twenty years earlier.
He pulled the door shut, and followed the hallway down past the kitchen where he saw Gustov rummaging through the commercial fridge. “I’ll be back to talk to you,” Teagan muttered as he strode past the small office where he’d heard Rose Avery on the phone. “I’ve got plenty of questions.”
And after a few more steps he looked up and he was at the cellar door.
Teagan stopped abruptly as if it wasn’t where he’d been headed, and it had just appeared. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. His hand trembled as he reached for the handle, his s
tomach rippling like bubbles in a champagne bottle. His entire being full of dread.
“What is wrong with you,” he mumbled to himself. “Get a grip. Nothing’s down there.”
He gave the knob a turn, and tugged at the heavy door. Blowing out the breath he’d been holding, he flipped the switch to turn on the lights and went down the wide steps, stopping on the last one.
Teagan tried to calm his unexpectedly uncontrolled breathing and racing heart. He stuck his hands down in his pants pocket and stilled himself. Taking a long pause, he finally ambled off the last step and walked across the cement floor. The area was chilly and with no humidifier, and the air conditioner turned off, it smelled musty, a lingering scent of old wine – nutty, vinegary. His footsteps echoed on the cement floor beneath him, reverberating off of the empty cavernous walls and taunting him as he moved closer to the room where his grandmother’s body had been found.
“What were you doing in here, Grandmother?” he said standing in the middle of the room. “Why were you trying to put that bottle of wine on a rack in here? It wasn’t Italian. It was a Bordeaux. Bottled in 1914. You never would have done that.” He spun around taking the room in. “Would you? Were you really trying to put that bottle in here, Grandmother?” He let out a huff. “Why? Or were you in here for something else? What made you come down here before going back up to change your dress?”
Teagan thought about the night before, how he was headed over to the Antiquity Room – the room where he thought she would be – when he’d heard something that drew him the other way.
“Did you hear something too, Grandmother?” Teagan spoke to the ether. “What did you hear?”
He stooped down and ran his hand over the holes in the floor where the bolts had at one time been driven through.
What did my father see?
He slapped his hand on the floor, grimacing, he stood up. What is it that I can’t see?” Teagan walked over to the wall and leaned his back against it. Surveying the room, he tried to imagine that night. His grandmother climbing up on the step stool that she’d kept in every room. Her trying to put the bottle back . . . no not back it didn’t belong there. Her trying to put it on the top shelf. And all of it crashing down on her.
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