“Let’s all calm down.” The policeman was trying again. Sofia admired his persistence.
Aidan did something to his foot that made Narek stumble which gave him the leverage he needed, and he dragged Narek toward his car, one resisting step at a time. Milena followed without once looking at her husband.
“If I let you go, will you behave?” the cop asked Marcel when Aidan and Narek were halfway across the parking lot. “No attacking.”
“I was most grievously provoked,” Marcel said.
Nobody could disagree with that.
“I understand that, sir,” the officer said. “But I won’t let you go until you show me you can be calm.”
“I shall be tranquil,” said Marcel.
The young officer loosened his grip on Marcel, and Marcel stood still. He glared at Narek, but he didn’t start toward him.
“I will fetch some ice.” Annabelle brushed past Rick Pankhurst and went into the house.
Pankhurst looked as if he was biting the inside of his cheeks to keep from smiling. Most of the rest of the crowd wasn’t even trying. Grins and chuckles broke out everywhere. It had been quite a show.
“Excuse me,” called a tiny voice from under the stage.
Sofia bent over and looked into the darkness. A flash of skin, a mop of blond hair. “Bambi?”
“Do you have any clothes?” Bambi asked. “I can’t find my dress.”
Sofia looked around the area in front of the stage. No fawn-colored dress. “Where did you leave it?”
“Over by the speaker.” Bambi pointed a long tanned arm.
The speakers, Sofia noticed, were aimed straight at the Grigoryan’s vineyard. Definitely a provocation.
“I took my clothes off there, and then we went in front of the stage,” Bambi said. “But I hid under here when the police arrived and the music stopped.”
No clothes on top of the speaker. Sofia searched the ground.
“No dress here,” Sofia said.
Bambi swore. “That’s where it should be.”
“Somebody must have taken it.” Someone was stealing water and clothes. It was a larcenous vineyard. “I have a sweatshirt in the car. It’s not much.”
“I’ll take it,” Bambi said.
Sofia hurried over to the car and came back with a heather-gray hoodie. She held it under the stage, and Bambi pulled it out of her grip.
“Thanks,” she said. “I owe you one.”
Sofia tried to think of a situation where Bambi could pay her back by giving her clothes when she was naked at a concert. She hoped that wouldn’t come up. “Don’t worry about it.”
She turned away to give Bambi some privacy and looked at the scene in front of her.
Annabelle had come back, and now Marcel wore a pair of red, white, and blue Speedos. He pressed a white bag against his French flag. She looked again—frozen peas. That didn’t seem very sophisticated. Didn’t they make frozen truffles?
Annabelle talked to her husband. Pankhurst leaned against the wall holding a cigarette. Most of the other party guests had disappeared inside, probably to keep away from the cop or to hide the drugs.
Milena leaned against the Mercedes, looking furious, while Narek gesticulated at Aidan. From the long-suffering expression on Aidan’s face, she guessed he was trying to calm Narek down. He’d only been partly successful, but at least he’d made a start.
The police officer was talking to the band, and they were packing their instruments into battered black cases at double time tempo. Looked like the party was over. Someone must have hit the wrong switch, because a high-pitched squeal came out of the speakers. The sound quickly cut off.
“What was that?” Bambi climbed out from under the stage. The sweatshirt was supposed to end at her waist, but she yanked it down further to cover up her lady bits. Sofia wondered if the sweatshirt would ever go back to its original shape.
Before Sofia could answer, Annabelle sprinted toward the stables. Pankhurst was on her heels. Sofia headed after them. Something that got Annabelle upset was bound to be interesting.
As she got close to the stable, Sofia heard neighing and crashing. The horse sounded as if she was smashing the stall apart from the inside out. What had set her off? The band? Was it that last squeal from the speakers, or had she been this upset since the band started to play and no one had noticed? Poor horse, sacrificed to Marcel and Narek’s petty rivalries.
Sofia paused by the open door. It could be dangerous in there, if the horse had spooked and gotten loose. She pushed the door all the way open and peered through.
The light was on. Annabelle stood in front of the horse. Percy’s ears were back and the mare was trembling, but at least she wasn’t smashing against the sides of the stall anymore.
Annabelle held out one hand and began to sing in French. Sofia didn’t recognize the words, but it sounded like a lullaby. Pankhurst was further away, watching the woman and the horse. Sofia stayed where she was. Annabelle knew what she was doing, and another person might make things worse.
As she sang, Annabelle slowly moved closer to Percy until she was close enough to touch her. Percy’s ears came forward, and her head lowered. Annabelle reached up and stroked her neck. She stopped singing and started murmuring. Sofia couldn’t hear what she was saying, but it sounded French and sweet.
The stall looked undamaged except for a single board at the horse’s eye level. She must have reared and struck it.
Sofia stepped back and started to close the door.
“Why does he always taunt them so?” Annabelle said.
Sofia froze to listen.
“He likes it.” Pankhurst’s deep voice answered her.
“But he should let them be. He is so very cruel sometimes,” Annabelle said.
She had to mean Marcel, and the ones he was taunting must be Narek and Milena. Sofia felt a little bad about eavesdropping, but if it was for a case she practically had to. She moved back another pace so her shadow wouldn’t be visible in the doorway.
“That’s his thing,” said Pankhurst. “Always has been. You used to like it.”
“Did I?”
There was a long silence in the stable. Behind her, Sofia heard someone turn on music in the house. It wasn’t the band. It was a lot quieter.
“How’s Percy?” Pankhurst asked.
“Better. My lovely is better,” Annabelle spoke in a crooning voice. “But I hope she hasn’t injured herself.”
“Let me take a look at her.” Pankhurst’s voice faded. He must be moving around to the stall.
“I’m thinking of getting her a new stallfount,” Annabelle said. “Maybe one that’s heated. What do you think?”
Sofia wondered what a stallfount was.
“We don’t need one up here, but you treat Percy like a child,” Rick said.
“She’s the only child I’m likely to have.” Annabelle cooed at the horse.
Someone tapped on Sofia’s shoulder, and she jumped. She landed with her hands up to defend herself, Krav Maga-style.
CHAPTER 24
“I t’s me, Bambi!” Bambi held up her hands palm out. “Don’t hit me!”
“Sorry.” Sofia’s heart was ready to gallop out of her chest. She felt as jumpy as Percy.
“I’m looking for Rick.” Bambi tugged the borrowed sweatshirt down. It still didn’t cover enough.
“Inside.” Sofia pointed toward the stable door.
“I think your boyfriend is looking for you,” Bambi said. “He’s hot.”
“Aidan’s not my boyfriend,” Sofia said without thinking. She tried to correct that since they were supposed to be a couple. “We’re just here together. Trying things out.”
“Rick’s not my boyfriend either,” Bambi said. “I met him online and then met up with him at The Emoji Club before coming here.”
Rick was way too old to go to Emoji. It was one of those young people clubs with a different DJ every night.
Bambi played with the sweatshirt’s drawstring. “Or
that Marcel guy either. But you never know. He seems rich.”
She looked totally at ease in Sofia’s sweatshirt, her butt hanging out in the breeze, talking about the various men in her life. Sofia kinda envied her.
“I’ll go look for Aidan,” Sofia said. “Are Marcel and Narek calmed down?”
“Is Narek the fat, old blond guy?” Bambi asked.
“Yes.” Not the most flattering description, but fairly accurate.
“Marcel seems calm. He already got dressed and he’s back inside the house with his friends. I’m going to go back in a minute, spend the night here, and I need to tell Rick that I won’t need a ride home.”
“What about Narek?” Sofia asked.
“Last I saw he was kicking his car’s tires and the dumpling with him was sitting in the front seat scowling.”
Dumpling wasn’t a very nice way to describe Milena either. Was she supposed to stick up for them because they were clients? She decided not.
“Oh,” Sofia said. “Thanks for letting me know.”
She headed back up to the giant house. Everyone was mostly inside now, but the music had been cranked up a notch. Through the front door she saw Marcel, dressed again, holding court in front of a group of admirers. He’d gotten rid of the frozen peas. She bet his recovery had more to do with the healing powers of cocaine than the peas.
Aidan stood back from Narek with his arms folded. Narek circled his car, kicked his tires one after the other with no indication he was getting tired. Not a happy guy, Narek. Milena sat in the front seat, looking like a dumpling and scowling, as Bambi had said.
“Hey,” Sofia said to Aidan. “Why’s he kicking his tires?”
“He wanted to kick something, and I said he couldn’t kick anything that didn’t belong to him,” Aidan said. “Where did you go?”
“Stable,” she answered. “Where’s the cop?”
“Over there.” He jerked his head to the side. Now she could see the police car, parked under a stand of trees with the dome light on and a resigned-looking cop watching them. “He says he’ll leave when Narek does. But both sides decided not to press charges, and the band’s packed up, so that’s good.”
Sofia looked toward the stage and whistled. “They must be the NASCAR pit crew of bands. They’re already gone.”
“We’re going to give Narek and Milena a ride home,” Aidan said. “I’ll drive Milena in her car, and you can take Narek in mine.”
“How about the other way round?” she asked.
“I think Milena might talk to me easier than you,” he said.
She couldn’t argue with that. Milena had never really spoken to her. “Did you find your drone?”
“Too many people to look,” he said. “I’ll come back for it tomorrow.”
“Like Marcel and Annabelle are going to be in a better mood tomorrow.”
“At least the police will be gone.” He patted his pockets.
“I still have your keys,” she said. “From before.”
“How did you cheat?” Aidan asked.
“Me, cheat?”
“The keys. I know you must have cheated to get my keys out of the bowl.”
“Maybe it was fate.” She wasn’t going to show him any of her tricks. “We were meant to be together.”
Aidan looked away.
“Can we leave?” Narek had worked his way back around to them. He had blood all over the front of his shirt, and his nose was starting to swell. Nobody had given him a bag of frozen peas.
Milena climbed out of the car, and Sofia tensed.
“Your keys,” Milena said to Narek.
Aidan held them up. They had a purple rabbit’s foot on them. Lucky.
Milena snatched the keys out of his hand and turned to Narek. “I’ll be at my mother’s.”
“But.” Narek held out his hands to her. “We—”
She slammed the car door and laid down a track of rubber on her way down the driveway. Marcel wouldn’t be happy when he saw those marks later.
Narek let his hands fall to his sides and watched Milena’s red taillights.
Now they were down to one car. That meant Sofia was going to have to cram herself into the third seat in the Porsche. It was exactly the right size to hold a bag of groceries or a small dog. But Narek was the client, and she was the smallest one in the group. The protocol was pretty clear.
Annabelle and Rick walked out of the barn, hand in hand. Bambi flounced behind them in Sofia’s sweatshirt. Rick opened the door of his truck for Annabelle, waited for her to climb in, then closed it after her. Gentlemanly manners. Then he got in on his side, started it up, and the truck passed by, leaving only the smell of diesel exhaust.
Bambi waved once, then hiked up to the house, her bare bottom bouncing in the moonlight.
“Isn’t that your sweatshirt?” asked Aidan.
“I guess I know where you’re looking,” Sofia said. “At the shirt.”
“At the whole picture,” Aidan said. “She’s a lot better looking naked than Marcel.”
Narek cleared his throat.
That was Sofia’s signal to get into the car so they could get off this hill. Narek climbed in after and slammed the Lemon Drop’s door. Aidan looked as if he was about to say something, then shook his head, and got into the car himself.
Narek didn’t say a word during the short ride back to his mansion. He stared straight ahead, his jaw muscles clenching and unclenching as if he were chewing on something. She supposed he was. For her part, Sofia was feeling queasy again.
“Maybe your dad was right about this case,” she said after they left a silent Narek out at his front door.
“Happy people don’t hire detectives.” Aidan was driving at his usual crawl. But at least she was in the front seat and didn’t have anywhere she needed to be.
She stared out across the neatly ordered rows of grape vines shining. “Sometimes they’re happier after we finish our job.”
“I don’t think that’s going to happen here.” Aidan took a turn so slowly she was pretty sure she could have pushed the car through it faster. “It makes me glad I have my checklist.”
“You think a checklist is going to keep you from having problems in your fictional future marriage?”
“Doesn’t believe in extra-marital sex is on there,” he said. “And I’m adding No sex parties.”
“That’ll solve all your problems.” She wasn’t sure why she was picking on him. She might not have a formal checklist, but those two items were certainly on her ‘no’ list.
“I don’t know how you worked it with the keys,” he said. “But thanks.”
“There’s no one you’d rather have handcuff you to a pole than me.” She laughed.
Aidan stiffened. “At that party, anyway.”
“Bambi was kind of cute.”
“She fails the no sex parties test.”
“Technically, we fail that test now, too.”
“That was for work,” he said.
“So you’d be fine with a woman who attended sex parties for work?”
“Meanwhile, back at the case,” he said. “Now we know why Narek and Marcel are feuding, and it isn’t about water.”
“Not mainly.” She looked down at the silvery ocean in the distance. “But both of them think the other is stealing their water. That’s weird.”
“Maybe they’re losing that much to evaporation. They farm about the same amount, so they probably lose the same amount, too.”
“Maybe.” She wasn’t happy with that answer, but she didn’t have a better one.
CHAPTER 25
Sofia walked up the path to her trailer. The ocean shone in the moonlight, and the waves crashed and broke ceaselessly. It reminded her life could be simple and eternal. It didn’t have to be mean and petty.
She was pretty calm by the time she got to her trailer. Then she saw a dark figure standing on her porch. He had his hand in a bag, and he smelled of fish.
“Gray?” she called. “Is that you?
”
He threw a tiny silvery fish into the air, and Fred dove to catch it before it hit the porch. “It’s not like I’d say I was a killer if I was.”
She used to think she had the only nocturnal seagull in the world, but she’d since discovered that lots of gulls stayed up late if they thought there was food in it for them. Fred, she suspected, had some kind of bird alarm around her trailer, because he flew in any time he thought he’d get something good.
She climbed the stairs and leaned next to Gray, butt against the cold porch railing. “What’re you feeding Fred?”
“I figured all that bologna can’t be good for him, so I got some fresh jack mackerel.” Gray tossed another one and Fred swooped down for it. “I saw your lights were off this evening, and I thought you might not be home tonight to feed him.”
“Thanks, Gray,” she said. “But why would I be out all night?”
“Work.” He smiled that slow, sexy smile that made millions of women around the world fantasize about having him on their porch. Not that it would do them any good.
“Did Emily tell you?”
“Maybe,” he said. “I also read about it online. I hear you’re basically dating Legolas, from Lord of the Rings.”
“His name is Jaxon,” she said. “And he’s a man, not an elf.”
“He looks pretty damn manly in the pictures,” Gray said. “I’m jealous.”
“Do you want tea?”
“I brought decaf Earl Grey.” He held up another bag. “In case you came home after all. And digestive biscuits.”
Digestive biscuits were a British thing. They tasted like sweetened cardboard, but Gray loved them. “Yay for the biscuits.”
“I also brought some chocolate chip cookies,” he said. “For American infidels who can’t appreciate the taste of British food.”
She unlocked her door and turned off her alarm while Gray tore open the bag of fish and left it on her porch.
“Don’t get used to this, Fred,” she said. “Tomorrow it’s back to pizza and bologna.”
An hour later, they’d almost made it through the pot of tea, the cookies, and the details about Jaxon.
“What’s ortolans?” she asked, remembering Bambi’s comment at the party. Gray knew all kinds of stuff.
D is for Drunk Page 11
