The Winemaker

by Charmaine Pauls

  Instinctively, Zenna took a step back. “What’s going on here?”

  The man who still held the badge, Detective Moreno, moved between Etán and Zenna. “Miss Rambling?”

  “Yes?” Her reply was cautious. “Please speak slowly. I’m having difficulty understanding you, and, believe me, I want to understand what is going on here. Now.”

  He grinned, the twist of his lips hostile, as if she had insulted him. When he spoke again, he articulated his words with exaggerated emphasis. “Very well. Is that your car?” He pointed at the Suzuki Grand Nomade parked in her driveway.

  Zenna looked over her shoulder at the newly purchased, second-hand vehicle. “Yes.” She lifted an eyebrow. “Yes?”

  Detective Moreno caught his colleague’s eye. Touching his beret, Detective Gonzalo silently nodded at his partner.

  Detective Moreno cleared his throat. “I’m going to have to take you in for possession of a stolen vehicle.”

  This time Zenna stared at him as if he spoke an alien language. “Take me in? For what?” She looked from one detective to the other.

  “Gentlemen, there must be a serious mistake. Or this is a big joke. I haven’t stolen this car. My boyfriend bought it legally from a used car dealership.”

  Detective Moreno looked doubtful. He cocked his head to the side, tucked his badge into his back pocket, and slipped his fingers into his belt. “Your boyfriend, eh?”

  “Yes, that’s what I said.” Zenna made a face. “Oh, sorry ... ex-boyfriend.”

  Detective Gonzalo pointed at a file he clutched in his hand. “Says here on this insurance form you are the owner.”

  Of course. She was the owner. Marcos had put the car in her name because she was the one with the bank account and the credit, while he lived from hand to mouth.

  “Yes, but I didn’t buy it. My boyfriend ... ex-boyfriend did.” She shot Detective Gonzalo an irritated look. Which part of the explanation didn’t he get? “Look, I wasn’t even there when he bought the car. I just signed the papers he brought home.”

  Detective Moreno looked as smug as a cat that had caught a mouse. “Can we have a word with him?”

  Zenna propped her hands on her hips. “If he is my ex-boyfriend, do you really expect him to be here?”

  The two officers exchanged a look again.

  “Where can we reach him?” Detective Gonzalo asked suspiciously.

  She glared at him. “How the hell should I know? Why don’t you try his new agent’s house?”

  Detective Gonzalo seemed to have lost his patience. He took a sterner tone. “Whatever you say about not buying the car, your name is still on this paper.” He tapped a finger on the file. “However it came about, you now possess a stolen vehicle and that is something you’ll have to clear up downtown.”

  “Detective,” Ana’s voice was soft, but authoritative, “Miss Rambling only arrived here three weeks ago, and her Spanish isn’t excellent.” She smiled apologetically at Zenna. “If you take her anywhere to be questioned, her lawyer and a translator should be present. There is no point in putting her through that trauma and you through all that cost, wasting taxpayer’s money, when this is clearly a simple misunderstanding. I know you mentioned just before Miss Rambling arrived that you’re after a syndicate, but it hardly seems possible this young woman is the master mind you’re searching for.”

  Detective Gonzalo, unmoved, took a pair of handcuffs from his jacket pocket. “That’s not my place to judge, ma’am. I’m following orders.”

  Zenna’s eyes widened as she instinctively took a step toward Etán. She was suddenly very thankful for his protective arm around her shoulders.

  Etán sounded self-assured when he spoke. “Surely your superior expects a measure of independence from you in following through your orders? And common sense?”

  The tactfully delivered reprimand didn’t go unnoticed. Detective Gonzalo’s tone turned hostile. “What exactly is your relation to Miss Rambling?”

  “Miss Rambling is a good friend of my parents.”

  Zenna stole a quick glance at Etán. That wasn’t truthful. She barely knew them. However, she was happy to hide behind his broad back if they were going to wave around handcuffs and threats of taking her downtown. She was about to open her mouth to plead her innocence again, when they saw Pedro walking toward them.

  “Good morning, detectives.” Pedro held out a hand when he stopped in front of them.

  The senator’s well-respected reputation was evident in the immediate change of attitude. Zenna saw Detective Gonzalo’s eyes widen.

  After the men had exchanged greetings, Etán and Pedro took the two now less agitated detectives aside, their heads bent in a discussion that excluded the women. Typical, Zenna thought, but she wasn’t going to fight for her equality rights. Not right now anyway.

  “I’m sorry about Marcos, Zenna,” Ana said.

  She didn’t pretend not knowing. She had probably heard all the screaming. Their houses were practically joined by their kitchen walls. Zenna was thankful for her honesty. It made it easier to handle.

  “Yes, thank you. I’m sorry about last night’s shouting.”

  Zenna observed the men from under her eyelashes. She noticed a flatbed had pulled up on the curb, and neighbors from all sides were peering from their high walled properties, curious spectators of the drama unfolding in their street. It couldn’t happen often in this high-class neighborhood that the police repossessed someone’s vehicle.

  Looking back toward the men, she saw the four nodding in unison, obviously in some kind of agreement. Her stomach clenched when Detective Moreno approached her.

  “Lucky you have influential neighbors,” he said in a friendlier tone. “Mr. Perez-Cruz is vouching for you. For now, you can stay put until we get to the bottom of this. I still have to confiscate the vehicle. Please hand over the keys and ensure you remove all your personal belongings. You’ll be summoned with a court order. Better not leave the city or the country for that matter, and get yourself a good lawyer if you don’t have one, Miss Rambling.” He handed her a business card. “Tell your ... er ... ex-boyfriend to call me.”

  Zenna took the card wordlessly and watched him walk to the flatbed, where he took a clipboard with a form from the driver and signed it.

  Pedro patted Zenna on the back and gave her a sympathetic smile before he took Ana’s hand. “I think we should go greet the gentlemen and speed them on their way.”

  When Zenna still stood rooted to the spot, Etán said, “Now is a good time to get the keys, before they change their minds.”

  “What did you say to them?”

  “Not me. My father explained your situation, said he personally vouches for you, and will ensure you honor the date of the hearing.” He smiled. “Now, let’s get your things from the car. You get the keys. I’ll help.”

  She turned for the door, but swung back as a disturbing thought struck her. “How long before the hearing?”

  “It’s difficult to say. Could be anything between three and six months. According to the detectives it will be sooner rather than later, given the seriousness of the matter. This car is part of a fleet stolen and smuggled over the Argentinean border.”

  “Three to six months? Ah, that’s just great. At least I don’t have to call my mother and explain why I would have been on the next flight back to London.”

  When Zenna had disappeared into the house, Ana approached her son and said in a voice low enough for only him to hear, “We have to protect that girl, Etán. Keep an eye on her.”

  He raised his brow. “What do you know, Mom? What are you hiding?”

  “Not now.” Her eyes moved to the two detectives. “Later.”

  It took Zenna only a second to retrieve the keys from the hook in the entrance. There wasn’t much in the car that belonged to her. She removed Marcos’ city map, and fingering the cover, she almost cried. She was thankful for Ana Rosa and Pedro flanking her as the flatbed drove her stolen car away amidst the glare of the
whole street’s inhabitants who had abandoned their breakfasts to enjoy the morning’s spectacle. She was only faintly aware of Etán’s eyes resting on her as she thanked Pedro and Ana for their help before escaping back into the house.

  Firmly closing and locking the door behind her, she let out a heavy sigh. It was a mess, but it could have been worse. For a moment, she thought they had found her. Or even that something had happened to Marcos.

  Her heart contracted at the memory of the handcuffs. There was always something to be grateful for. At least she was still standing in the house, albeit alone, instead of being locked up in some prison cell somewhere ‘downtown’. Even her headache was becoming more tolerable. She rubbed a hand over her face. Nice. This was not at all how she had intended starting her day.

  After two aspirins, a shower, a light breakfast, and two cups of tea, Zenna felt slightly better, even if it was only physically.

  The sun shone brightly in the backyard by nine, and she sat down at the garden table to think her situation through. She had to call Marcos to inform him the police would be looking for him about the case. It meant she couldn’t go back to London and had to stay put as the detective insisted until they or she cleared her name. To stay put, she had to live somewhere, and to live somewhere, she needed money. This house had an impossibly high rent. Where could she find a job to sustain her? She lowered her head in her hands and sat like that for a long time.

  Finally, she summoned up enough courage to call Marcos from her mobile phone. At first, she thought he wasn’t going to answer. She was hoping for his voice mail when his voice finally broke through her thoughts.

  “What do you want, Bia?”

  He only ever called her ‘Bia’ when he was really annoyed. She wasn’t going to apologize for calling him, bothering him, or wasting his precious time. This was all his fault.

  She came straight to the point. “The police were here this morning.”

  There was only a stunned silence.

  Satisfied she had his attention, she continued. “They confiscated the car.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Turns out you bought a stolen car. No spare keys, no service book, remember? I asked you about those. I said it was strange, but you had to go and buy that cheap car.”

  “Oh, so now you’re blaming me. I didn’t see you rushing out and finding us a car. Why don’t you just lay all of your problems on me? Would that make you feel better?”

  She snorted. “I’d rather lay your cock on a block and chop it off with a blunt axe.”

  “Jesus, Zenna, what is wrong with you?”

  “No, what is wrong with you? I’m in trouble here because of you, and you’re not being much help. I can’t go back to England because I have to appear in court. Maybe only in six months or three if I’m lucky. I almost got driven downtown in handcuffs this morning. I called to tell you the police are looking you for you too. Unfortunately for me, and lucky for you, the car is in my name, so I’m going to have to go to court. You’re still wanted for questioning.”

  He suddenly sounded nervous. “I helped you to find a car out of the goodness of my heart, and this is all you can do? Blame me? I’m the victim here as much as you.”

  “Excuse me? You bought me a car? Let’s be honest. You bought it in my name because you couldn’t get the credit. It was you who needed the four-by-four for those impossible mountain passes to get to the ski-resorts. Now you’re a freaking model.”

  “Watch your tone or I swear to God, I’ll slam this phone down in your ear.” He seemed to check himself. “Don’t fret. It’s just a misunderstanding. I bought the car from a registered dealer. We’re not to blame.”

  “You convinced me we needed that car because we were going to start our new business, remember? Our tourist agency. Please explain to me how I ended up here alone, dealing with this crap?”

  He swore. “That’s beside the point, now.”

  She cursed.

  “Bia, don’t start, all right? Did you give them my details?”

  “No. I took theirs. I said I’ll give it to you.” She didn’t mention she had no idea where he was. She assumed at Monica’s, wherever that was, but she couldn’t bear to ask.

  “Good girl. Give me the number. I’ll get in touch and explain everything.”

  She read the details from the business card. “I still have to appear in court.”

  “There’s nothing I can do about that, Zenna.”

  “While we’re talking about getting me out of a mess you made, what about the house? What am I supposed to do?”

  “Yeah, we didn’t have time to talk it through last night. Listen, you can stay in the house and take over the rent. I’ll come by later to pick up my stuff. Just tell me when you won’t be there. It’ll be easier like that. I’ll leave the keys in the entrance when I go.”

  Son of a bitch. He was going to dump the whole bag of potatoes in her lap. Just like that. He very well knew she couldn’t afford the rent on her own.

  “Fine.” She swallowed her hurt, pride making her strong. She had always managed. She could do it again. “I’ll be out tonight. When I come home, I don’t want to see a trace of you in this house.

  Chapter Three

  Etán watched his younger brother Luca crack open a can of beer and prop himself onto the veranda wall of their parents’ Santiago house. Luca stretched his legs and crossed one heavy boot over the other. His movements had always been gracefully lazy, yet powerful, like a feline predator’s. Luca was like a lion cub. Like a cub, he liked to play. Like a cub, his play could just as easily turn dangerous. His play was especially dangerous for the women whose hearts he was renowned for breaking.

  Luca refused, year after year, to take a place in the family-owned wine industry. Neither did he keep a steady job. His refusal to take anything in life seriously had been the source of their parents’ concern for years. While their parents never questioned Luca’s choices or said as much, Etán knew they hoped, more than anything, that Luca would one day take an interest in the business.

  Luca pulled a hand through his spiky hair. His studded leather jacket creaked at the strain of the movement. With a black T-shirt stretched over his muscled chest and leather pants matching the jacket, he was the perfection of a bad boy image. Etán smiled affectionately. They were opposites in almost all behavioral and physical proportions. Etán was the taller and broader one, although Luca didn’t lack in the muscle department. Etán preferred his tailor-made suits for business meetings or jeans and boots when he was working in the vineyard. He didn’t share Luca’s taste for leather and studs. He definitely did not have the time Luca had for play.

  As winemaker in the country’s finest winery, he managed the family’s vineyard, a daunting task that took up most of his days and nights. Luca frequently voiced his opinion that Etán was too serious about life. Luca took after the blond, French-Norman ancestors of his father, while Etán inherited his Chilean mother’s black hair and fair skin.

  The only remote similarity between the famous brothers, often described as the yin and the yang of their family, was the color of their eyes. Even in this, the difference in saturation made them opposites. Luca’s eyes were moss green, Etán’s light emerald. Both distinct colors had a similar striking effect. Luca’s dark green eyes made a stark contrast with his light complexion and fair hair, while Etán’s paler eyes stood out against the backdrop of his dark mass of hair. They made a dashing duo—the two most sought after and elusive men in the city.

  Etán’s shoulder was braced against the wall, his arms crossed. While his stance looked relaxed, every muscle in his body was tight, his senses alert, as he let his gaze travel from Luca to the taxi parked in front of the neighbor’s house.

  Luca sipped his beer. “You seem to be very interested in our new neighbor.”

  Etán didn’t shift his eyes from the black and yellow cab. He kept his emotions carefully hidden. Growing up with Luca had taught him from a young age how to keep his fee
lings from his brother’s special, probing talent.

  Luca had sensed his emotional retraction, because when Etán shot him a quick glance, Luca gave his brother a knowing smile. “Why are you hiding, Bro?”

  “Who said I’m hiding?” Etán felt the tentacles of Luca’s spiritual gift reaching out to him again, deeper this time. “Stop doing that,” he said with mock irritation.

  Etán saw his brother grin from the corner of his eye. He sensed his brother pulling back from searching for his sentiments. Luca had been born with a powerful empathic ability. He was four years younger than Etán. Between them, there had been Catalina, but Etán immediately forced himself to push the pain of her memory from his consciousness. There was no point in punishing Luca as well with the hurt Etán felt. Years of practice had refined Etán’s skill to pull up barriers, effectively shielding his brother’s ability to read him like a book.

  The front door of the house next door opened. Both men watched as the new neighbor emerged and walked briskly to the waiting cab. Etán’s eyes narrowed. She wore a tartan miniskirt with black netting peeping from underneath, caressing her womanly thighs. A polka dot tie accentuated a white men’s dress shirt hanging loosely over the skirt. Instead of making her look manly, it had the opposite effect. It amplified her vulnerability. Etán didn’t have to know her well to sense she acted far braver than she was.

  No doubt she was a woman who couldn’t be handled without kid gloves, but even as she had faced the two policemen that morning with a straight back and her chin lifted, he had smelled her fear. It surrounded her like thick sulfur. Her hair had been uncombed, her face unwashed, and she stood there in flimsy pajamas barely hidden by an awful gray coat, yet, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Maybe her courage added to her beauty to make her irresistible to him.

  The odor of her unique skin chemistry had drifted to him through the air, and he had found it intoxicating. It surprised and shocked him. He never had such a reaction to a female before, not even to Sanita. Protectiveness made him want to punch both arrogant detectives in the face, and he wasn’t the punchy type.