The Case of the Voracious Vintner

by Tara Lain

  “Jeremy?”

  “Hmm?” He kept looking out the window.

  “We’re going to think of something, darlin’. Don’t give up hope. I hate seeing you look so dejected.”

  It wasn’t fair, but Jeremy wanted to scream “You haven’t been rejected by every customer on the West Coast. What would you know?” He didn’t. Instead he turned his head and smiled, though it probably didn’t make it to his eyes. “I don’t know why you don’t give up, Bo. On me. Obviously this is a hopeless task. For some weird reason, I’m being driven from the business.”

  “Shit on a stick, it doesn’t make sense.” Bo glanced at his phone and clicked it. The speaker in the car burst to life and started ringing.

  After a couple of rings, a voice answered. “Hi, Bo. I’ve got Llewellyn here too. Can I put you on speaker?”

  “Sure.” The sound became more echoed.

  “H-hi, Bo.”

  “Hi, Llewellyn. Sorry to bother you guys on the weekend.”

  “N-no problem. We w-wanted to talk to you.”

  Bo sighed. “We’re getting desperate, and I just wanted to know if you’ve uncovered anything.”

  “Why? What’s happened?” Blaise’s voice was intense.

  Bo detailed their trip, from the one promising appointment at Reynolds and Reynolds to the total strikeout at the others. Strikeout for Jeremy and Hill Top, that was.

  Llewellyn spoke thoughtfully. “Y-you made the appointment at R-Reynolds at the l-last minute?”

  “Yes.” He glanced over at Jeremy.

  Son of a bitch, Jeremy hadn’t thought of that.

  “S-so whoever spoke t-to the w-wineries wasn’t informed about the f-first appointment.”

  Bo nodded as he changed lanes. “I see that now. Sorry, this has been so upsetting, we’re not thinking real clearly.”

  There was a pause. Blaise said, “Uh, Bo. We haven’t been able to find any evidence that Ottersen is behind all this.”

  Jeremy shook his head disgustedly. “He’s just a damned good liar.”

  “Th-That may b-be, Jeremy. But y-your clients swear that they c-called him. Not the other w-way around.”

  “When we ask them why,” Blaise added, “they get evasive. Better prices. More inventory. More popular types of grapes, but the fact is, they couldn’t have known that in advance unless someone told them.”

  “Right, Ottersen!” Jeremy tried not to sound exasperated, but no matter how he weighed it, he couldn’t figure out a way to lay this on his craptastic father.

  “We just can’t prove that.” Blaise sounded really skeptical.

  “It’s not going to matter much longer anyway, guys. I’m going to have to put it on the market. Wineries aren’t all that easy to sell. Unless, of course, that’s what Ottersen’s wanted all along. Maybe he’ll buy it from me—at a rock-bottom price.”

  Bo put a warm hand on his thigh. “Have you learned anything else?”

  Blaise gave a funny snort. “Kind of, although it probably has no significance.”

  Shit, none of it did. Jeremy wiped a hand across his eyes.

  Bo said, “What is it?”

  “On Llewellyn’s research—”

  “On Dionysus?”

  “Yes, exactly. He keeps hearing rumors that there’s some kind of Dionysian group or society in the wine country.”

  “Our wine country?” Bo looked at Jeremy with raised eyebrows.

  Llewellyn said, “Y-yes. And it s-seems to be very, um, shall we say prurient in n-nature?”

  Jeremy frowned. “What?”

  “The rumors s-suggest the s-sexual aspects of the Dionysian m-mysteries, and there are m-many.”

  “Where’d you hear this?” Jeremy and Bo glanced at each other in amazement.

  “Llewellyn heard it through some people in the history department who apparently were asked to join.”

  “Y-yes. They demurred d-due to a d-disinclination to have s-sex in public.”

  “What the fuck?” Although why Jeremy should be surprised at anything the central coast vintners did, he wasn’t sure.

  Llewellyn gave a dry, little chuckle. “P-precisely.”

  “But how might that affect Jeremy and me?”

  Blaise said, “We don’t know. It’s just another twisted thread running through that community of yours.”

  “Wonders never cease.” Bo passed a truck, one of many that loomed in their way as they tried to get home a day earlier than expected. “Thank you again for all you—whoa!” A black car that had been in front of the truck pulled into the lane directly in Bo’s pathway. He slammed on the brakes and leaned on the horn. “Asshole!”

  “What happened?” Blaise sounded concerned.

  “Just an idiot driver that clearly got his license at Walmart.” Bo exhaled. “As I was saying, thank you again for all your help.”

  “W-we haven’t g-gotten m-many results.”

  “But not for lack of trying, darlin’s, I can tell. We deeply appreciate it.”

  “We’re not giving up, Bo.”

  “Thank you. Thank you both. We’ll talk again soon.”

  He clicked off and wiped a hand along his eyes. “They’re so great.”

  “I agree. I hope I didn’t sound too frustrated.”

  “I’m sure they know how terrible this is for you.”

  Jeremy gave a tight smile. “Which is Southern polite speak for ‘You were an asshole but they’ll likely forgive you.’”

  “No, honestly. You behaved as I’m sure they’d expect from someone being so mistreated.” He looked over. “Why don’t you lay your head back and rest? We’ve got another few hours to go.”

  “I want to take my turn driving.”

  “I’ll wake you in an hour if you fall asleep.”

  “Deal.” He rested his head against the door and got as comfy as Prius physics allowed. His eyes closed, and Bo turned on some soothing music that encouraged him to drift. Nothing much he could do until he got home. Hell, nothing much he could do….

  “Jeremy?”

  Bo’s voice cut through his foggy brain.

  “Jeremy! Wake up!”

  “What?” His eyes fluttered as his body slammed against the doorframe, then hurdled back and banged into the console, his head actually grazing Bo’s shoulder. “What’s happening?”

  “They’re running us off the road!” Bo slammed his foot on the gas and sped forward, but the black car—the same black car—pushed into their lane and wouldn’t let Bo get ahead. On Bo’s left, the road shoulder fell away into a drainage ditch.

  “God damn!” Jeremy powered down the window, stuck his head out, and screamed, “Get the hell in your own lane, you idiot!”

  “Jeremy, get back in here, for God’s sake. They could have a gun or something.”

  Jeremy’s eyes widened as the side of the black car came straight at him, and he yanked his body back in as a thud rang out, signaling that the black coupe had grazed the side of the Prius. Oh fuck, this is serious. Not some drunk but a real attack. Jesus H. Christ. “They’re after us, Bo.”

  “I know.” They careened ahead as Bo stomped the gas, and they burst around yet another truck. Bo started to pull to the right when Jeremy spied the Highway Patrol car. He leaned over and pressed down on the horn.

  Bo yelled, “What the—” Then he saw the cop too and pressed his hand on top of Jeremy’s. The policeman looked over, and Jeremy waved wildly behind them.

  Bo glanced at the mirror. “Wait. Shit!”

  “What?”

  “The car’s gone. They must have seen the cops too.”

  Jeremy fell back against the seat, a combination of pissed, scared, and relieved.

  As expected after their comic opera, the patrolman waved them over. It took a few minutes at high speed, but finally they were able to change lanes and pull to the shoulder of the road.

  Still breathing hard, they waited for the cop to walk forward from his car; then Bo opened the window. “Thank you, Officer. I think you saved our
lives.” As he tended to do when being charming, Bo’s accent accentuated so it came out as “saved ahr lahves.”

  The officer frowned. “License and registration, please. And explain what you mean.”

  Jeremy leaned over. “A black coupe, something like a Camaro, I think, with blacked-out windows, was trying to run us off the road.”

  “What? Why?” Skeptical, thy name is policeman.

  “We don’t know exactly, sir. Earlier the same car tried to enter our lane, and I honked at him. Maybe he was drunk and saw a chance to get even.”

  Jeremy snorted. “Yeah, well, he was sober enough that when he got one look at you, he disappeared.”

  The cop might not have believed them, but they hadn’t done anything wrong except wave and honk at a highway patrolman, which hadn’t made it onto the Thou Shalt Not list of driving yet, so he just told them to be careful and left.

  Bo said, “Do you think he’ll even report that?”

  “Nope. He thinks we’re wackadoodle.”

  “Can’t say I blame him. If it hadn’t happened to me, I’m not sure I’d believe it either.”

  “What do you think happened?”

  Bo exhaled long and slow. “I guess what I told the cop. The guy got pissed because I honked at him, and he chased us down and tried to run us into the ditch.”

  “Seriously, you think that’s all it was?”

  “What else could it have been?” But his frown was deep.

  “I’m gonna leave you to imagine that for yourself.” Jeremy dropped his face into his hand and rubbed between his eyebrows. He had to admit, this maneuver could plausibly be someone other than Ottersen. Maybe I need to think about getting out? God, just the thought made him nauseated.

  Bo sighed, stared intensely in his side and rearview mirrors, actually turned around and checked the oncoming traffic, then pulled out fast into the moving stream of cars. No menacing black coupes.

  When they were whizzing along, Bo glanced uneasily at Jeremy. “That was really scary.”

  “Yeah.” He could hear the “but” hanging in the air.

  “Maybe not a reason to jump to too big a conclusion.”

  Jeremy shrugged. What point in pushing his agenda? He was the one on the receiving end. Of course, Bo would have been just as injured or even killed as Jeremy if the car had driven them off the road. Plus Bo’s business was being impacted as well. Not as much as Hill Top, but the blowback from his support of Jeremy could be costly. “You’re probably right.” He forced a smile. “Hey, aren’t I supposed to be driving?”

  “No. I’m jumpier than a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. I’d never get any rest. I might as well drive.”

  “Let me know if that changes.”

  “Will do.”

  Jeremy closed his eyes, just so he could think. Did Ottersen really send that car? How? Not everyone had contacts willing to kill or injure someone for you. Yes, Ottersen was crappy and deceitful in business, but stealing customers and killing people were pretty far apart. And what would he have to gain? If Jeremy died, Ottersen didn’t get anything more than he could acquire without the risk. Maybe he was just trying to scare Jeremy into selling, and the guy in the car went too far? Possible.

  With all that said, what am I going to do?

  “Jeremy?”

  His eyes flew open. That was conditioning from the last time Bo called his name. “Yes?”

  He must have sounded scared, because Bo smiled. “Nothing’s wrong. I could just smell the grits burning, you were thinking so hard.”

  “Yeah, sorry.”

  “I was thinking too. What if I loan you the money, or maybe buy a piece of your winery?”

  Jeremy tried to keep his frown from looking disapproving. “I’m not a good risk at this point, Bo. I might never be able to repay the debt, and the winery isn’t worth much with no customer goodwill.” He glanced out the window. They were getting closer to home.

  “I’m thinking if Ottersen knows I’m investing, he may realize he hasn’t got a chance against both of us. The land and vines have value. We can hold the vineyard until he gives up and then build back up the customer base.”

  Jeremy’s heart beat so hard it made his chest hurt. Here was Bo willing to go out on an even bigger limb for him. “Why?”

  “What?”

  “Why would you do this for me, Bo? I know the land’s valuable and it’s decent collateral, but you haven’t got money to burn with half the state of Georgia to support. Maybe you like fucking me, but you’re not even out. Not like it’s going to do you much good. It’s not that I’m not grateful. Hell, I could open a vein for you. But I just want to understand.” He wiped a hand over his neck. “Maybe I’m not a nice enough guy to get this?”

  Bo held up a finger and took the next exit into San Luis Obispo. At the end of the off-ramp, he turned right and pulled into a supermarket parking lot, where he took an empty space. Then he turned to Jeremy.

  “Okay, first off, you’re about as nice as guys get, which is one of the reasons I like you. In fact, a lot of people like you, not just me. But I admire you. I mean, I know what it’s like to come to a brand-new place and try to make your way. You’ve managed to fit in and stand out. That’s not easy. You’ve put together a fine business, you deserve to succeed, and I don’t think it’s fair that someone’s trying to defeat you by cheating.” He idly ran a finger across his own lips, but it made Jeremy shiver—in a good way. Bo said, “There’s a whole lot more that I reckon I’ve not earned the right to talk about, but what I already said are the reasons I’d want to help you, without any other considerations.”

  Unprepared. Water sprang out of Jeremy’s eyes like oil from a geyser, and he slapped a hand to his wet cheek so fast he could have killed a spider.

  Bo put a big, warm hand on his arm. “What are those tears about?”

  Jeremy shook his head. “Not many people around to tell me I did anything well.” He wiped at his eyes and swallowed hard. “Not even me.” He let his gaze rest on Bo’s sea green eyes. “I really appreciate it.”

  Bo raised his hand to Jeremy’s cheek. “So think about my offer.”

  “I will.” He inhaled deeply. “Now here’s another invitation. Want to come to my place tonight?”

  Bo smiled, slow and sweet. “If I spoke twelve languages, I’d say ‘hell yes’ in every one of them.”

  Chapter Twenty

  BO DIDN’T go home. If he did, no way he’d get out of there. He’d said he would be gone two days, so they wouldn’t be looking for him. Since he had his overnight bag, he carried it into Jeremy’s. Walking in this time, he noticed more, like how very spare the furnishings were and the almost total lack of decoration except for one or two pretty but generic paintings. It showed none of the style and spirit reflected in Hill Top Wineries.

  Jeremy must have noticed him looking because he said, “I’ve been pretty focused on the business since I moved here. I haven’t put much energy into this place.” He walked into the good-sized living room and turned on lights.

  “It’s a great place.” Remote as hell, but that had advantages. “Do you own it?”

  His eyes skittered away from Bo, then back. “No. I rent. I wanted to be sure I liked the house and location before I bought anything.”

  “Sure. That makes sense.”

  Jeremy pointed down the hall. “Want to put your bag in, uh, the bedroom?”

  “I’d be delighted.”

  “You know where. Uh, want something to eat?”

  “Sure. I could eat. I’ll help after I put this away.” Bo started down the hall. Jeremy had acted very sure of himself when he issued the invitation, but now he seemed uncertain and a little shy. Hell, the guy had been beaten down until it was a wonder he was still standing.

  Bo hadn’t quite recalled from his last intense visit, but Jeremy’s bedroom was even plainer than the rest of the house—a big bed with white sheets, carefully made, with a comfy blanket at the foot, bracketed by some nightstands. That, plus
a dresser and a chair, constituted the total décor of the room. Not a single picture hung on the walls or photo decorated a tabletop. Spartan.

  Bo opened the closet—whoa. A few things hung on the racks, but two smallish bags sat against the back wall, open and obviously neatly packed. Did he just return from a trip—other than the one they’d just taken? Bo closed the closet, feeling a little like a snooper, tossed his bag on the floor next to the chair, and went into the bathroom to pee and wash up. When he got back into the kitchen, the placed smelled amazing. “Wow. What’s that?”

  “Chicken veggie soup and grilled cheese, tomato, and pesto sandwiches.”

  Bo collapsed into a kitchen chair. “That sounds better’n almost anything—except sex.” He grinned.

  Jeremy gave him a glance over the shoulder. “That’s dessert.”

  “Jeremy Gelato?”

  “With Beauregard Crème Brûlée.”

  The idea gave Bo’s shaft some pretty peppy ideas, but this evening wasn’t really about sex—even though they said it was. Ever since those tears in the parking lot, Beau knew the night needed to be about comfort and letting Jeremy know someone cared about his plight and was there to help. He stood, walked closer, and wrapped his arms around Jeremy’s waist, then softly kissed his neck. “Thank you for cooking.”

  “My pleasure.” He arched his neck back and gently kissed Bo’s available lips.

  The food also turned out to be a pleasure, showing that original zest that Jeremy’s house decorating seemed to lack. After they’d cleaned up the dishes, they held hands and walked down the hall. Some quick toothbrushing later, they left their jeans and sweatshirts they’d changed into after their appointments on the chair and crawled into bed. Like an old married couple, they leaned against the headboard and held hands.

  “Bo?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I’ve thought a lot about your offer.”

  “Good. I hope you decide to accept it.”

  “I realize you’re trying to take care of me.”

  Bo shrugged. “Maybe a little.”

  Jeremy let out a long exhale. “I can’t begin to tell you how much I love that you feel inclined to do that, but you need to quit.”