Heard it Through the Grapevine

by Lizbeth Lipperman

  Surprised, Lainey glanced at the other photos. Other than one of the other three sisters at Tessa’s wedding, the rest were of Gracie. Why would Tessa keep this picture of her and Lainey in the office? They had fought nearly every day of their lives growing up and had been dead to each other for years.

  Lainey’s attention was diverted when Carrie said goodbye and hung up the phone. As she watched her sister’s best friend making notes on an invoice, she noticed how much older Carrie looked than Tessa, even though she knew they were exactly the same age. Obviously, Carrie didn’t have the great genes Tessa had inherited. Shorter than Lainey’s five-eight, with blond highlights in her stylish brown hair, Carrie had maintained her great figure, but her face had not escaped the curse of getting older. The beginnings of deep wrinkles were visible around her eyes and her lips. Lainey automatically touched her lips and vowed to get aggressive with her own moisturizing routine.

  “Sorry. I had to take that call. They’re one of our biggest clients.”

  “No problem.” Lainey walked back around the desk and was about to sit down.

  “Sit here.” Carrie held out Tessa’s chair, “This is your office now.”

  Lainey smiled. “Yeah. I’d better get used to it. I hope you’ll hang around to show me the ropes.”

  Surprise crept across Carrie’s face a second time. “I hope so. I’ve agreed to stay on as Jerry’s assistant, though. We—he—thought you’d be anxious to sell your half of the business and get back to your career in Savannah.”

  “He was wrong.”

  Carrie bit her top lip before her mouth tipped in a slight smile. “I’m glad. Having another woman around will be nice.” She paused. “So, when do you want to get started?”

  Lainey fought back the panic. All she wanted was to give the impression she was staying. She had no desire to get into the boring details of running a business. “Do you have any thoughts on who might have killed my sister?” she asked, hoping to steer the conversation in a new direction.

  Carrie rubbed her finger over her upper lip. “I’ve thought about it a lot since Colt came by and asked the same question.” She met Lainey’s eyes. “Did you know the cyanide was ordered on Tessa’s computer?”

  Lainey nodded. “I was with Colt at Ruby’s when he got the call telling him that.”

  “You were with Colt at Ruby’s?”

  “We had lunch yesterday to discuss a possible lead in the case.”

  Carrie started to say something, then stopped. “Why would he talk to you about the investigation?”

  “My sisters and I are trying to help out any way we can,” Lainey explained. “There might be things we can find out that he can’t. That’s all.”

  “Like what?”

  Lainey rubbed her jaw, not comfortable talking about this with Carrie.

  “You might want to have a chat with Quinton Porter.” Carrie said when Lainey didn’t elaborate.

  “Who’s he?” Lainey asked, remembering Tessa mentioning the oilman from Houston. Mentally, she placed him in the number one spot on the list.

  “He wanted to buy Spirits of Texas and turn it into a natural gas reserve. He offered Tessa and Jerry a ton of money to drill under the vineyard, but they turned him down. He’s the kind of guy who doesn’t like no for an answer.”

  “Where can I find Porter?”

  “In Houston.” Carrie’s eyes widened. “Oh, wait. I almost forgot.” She walked around the desk and pointed to the calendar under the glass. “Normally, he comes to Dallas the last week of every month to check up on all his accounts, but he called this morning. He must have heard about Tessa’s death, said he was in town and wanted to talk to Jerry.” She rolled her eyes. “Jerry was going over the books with Colt and said he would return the call. I’m not sure if he ever did.”

  “Do you have his number?”

  “No, but he always stays at the airport Conquistador. Isn’t that where you’re staying?” When Lainey nodded, she continued, “The bartenders all know him by name.” Carrie chugged an imaginary drink. “Know what I mean?”

  Lainey rolled her eyes before glancing at her watch. “Gotta run. I’m picking Maddy up after work, and I’m late.” She stood and turned toward the door. “It was good seeing you again, Carrie. I’m looking forward to your tutoring me in the wine business.”

  Before Lainey even made it to her car, she was already thinking about what she would wear to the Conquistador bar that night.

  EIGHT

  LAINEY SAUNTERED INTO THE bar, praying her fake bravado looked believable, hoping she didn’t break her neck in Kate’s black heels. She had only packed short black pumps, and the sisters had decided this escapade demanded sexier shoes.

  Tessa hadn’t shown up at Deena’s tonight when the four of them discussed the latest tip. Since Deena was married, Maddy had to work early the next morning, and Kate was pulling a double at the hospital, Lainey was elected to check out the oilman. After dinner, they’d piled into Lainey’s car and driven to Kate’s apartment to pick out an outfit designed to attract Porter’s attention. The plan was to get him liquored up and then pump him for info.

  How hard could it be? It’s what she did for a living. Well, maybe not the liquored-up part, but pumping for information was definitely her thing.

  Dressed in a blue jersey number belted at the waist, she felt naked. Kate was three inches shorter than her, so the dress ended thigh high and revealed her legs, long and brown, thanks to a quick stop at a spray-on tan place.

  She took a calming breath before glancing around the darkened room. Tuesday nights were slow at the Conquistador, judging by the handful of businessmen still in suits huddled around the bar. The waitress was the only other female.

  She grabbed an end stool and feigned interest in the hockey game blaring on the overhead television. She stole a quick glance at the four guys sitting at the bar, wondering if any of them was Porter. Two other men in a booth in the opposite corner acted like they were really into each other. If either of them turned out to be the oilman, hers wasn’t the right equipment to attract his attention.

  “What’s the lady drinking?”

  Lainey looked up as the bartender placed a bowl of peanuts in front of her. “A Baileys on the rocks, please.” She would have preferred a frozen margarita, but she had always been a cheap drunk. Two of those tequila drinks made her giggly, and she needed to be on top of things. Baileys, on the other hand, was so expensive, the servings were small. She could nurse two or three all night and still not stagger in the “F” me shoes.

  After the bartender walked away, she resumed her scrutiny of the men at the bar. She watched the one at the far end guzzle a beer, still wearing his cowboy hat. He was her pick for Porter. The two suits near the middle seemed too stiff for the Houston oilman, but the guy closest, already eyeing her up, was her second choice.

  The bartender placed the drink in front of her. When she handed him a twenty, he shook his head. “This one’s on him.” He pointed to the man closest to her who smiled when she looked.

  Oh crap! She had no idea how to do this. She had never been much of a bar-hopper in college, always at the library or studying alone in her room.

  She picked up the glass and flashed him a smile.

  I can’t believe you drink that stuff. It’s like chocolate milk.

  “Thank God!” Lainey exhaled noisily when she turned to see Tessa on the stool beside her. “Where in the hell have you been?”

  I can’t control when I show up. It just happens.

  “Yeah, well, good thing you did. I was about to haul ass out of here. Carrie told me to check out Quinton Porter, and I have no clue if he’s even in here.”

  The guy at the end of the bar all alone. I swear, that jerk couldn’t score in a monkey whorehouse with a bagful of bananas.

  Lainey turned in time to catch the cowboy staring at her, probably wondering who she was talking to. “The one in the hat?” she asked, trying not to move her mouth as she smiled at Porter.
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  Yep. That’s one dude I’d like to see well hung.

  Lainey’s eyebrows hitched. “Well hung? You said he was an asshole.”

  He is. In his case when I say well hung, it means I can barely slip my finger between his neck and the freakin’ noose.

  Lainey nearly choked as she forced herself to hold Porter’s stare. When he lifted his glass in a salute, she raised hers back to him.

  Take a deep breath, Lainey. You’ll never squeeze anything out of him sitting this far away. Get up and go over there, Tessa prodded. And shake your booty.

  Cautiously, Lainey rose from the barstool, thankful her bare thighs didn’t stick to the leather. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the man who had bought her drink, his smile indicating he thought his eight-dollar investment was about to pay off. It killed her not to glance at his face as she walked to the other end of the bar, just as Garth Brooks belted out “Friends in Low Places” from the jukebox in the corner.

  Taking a deep breath, she stopped in front of the empty stool on Porter’s left. “Mind if I join you?”

  Quinton Porter hadn’t taken his eyes off her the entire trek across the bar. Standing here now, suddenly feeling vulnerable, Lainey met his stare as she offered him a bird’s eye view of herself. When she glanced back up, she discovered his leering appraisal had stopped at her thighs.

  You always did have great legs, Lainey. Tessa nudged her forward. Make me proud, girl.

  Tessa plopped down on his right side and rested her head on the bar. Quickly, she straightened up. Ew! I could see his nose hairs from that angle. Not a pretty sight.

  After Porter’s eyes moved from her lower body, he smiled as he patted the empty seat. “What’s the pretty lady drinking?”

  “I’m good.” Lainey pointed to her full glass as she slid onto the barstool.

  “Suit yourself.” He raised his hand to signal for another beer. After the bartender placed the frosted mug in front of him, he turned back to Lainey. “What’d you have in mind?”

  Despite telling herself to stay calm, Lainey blushed. “Can’t a girl share a drink in a bar without an agenda?”

  Christ, Lainey. That’s so lame. Like Porter has a clue what having an agenda means.

  Porter’s eyes crinkled as he took a long swallow of his beer. “Not one who looks like you. What are we talking here—a couple hundred bucks?”

  Her color deepened. “I’m not … You misunderstood,” she stammered.

  “Really? Then tell me what I can do for a beautiful woman like you?”

  Give me a freakin’ break.

  Lainey extended her hand. “I’m Elaina Garcia. I’d like to talk to you about selling Spirits of Texas.”

  Porter nearly spit the swig of beer across the bar as he swiveled closer to her, eyes narrowed. “Who’d you say you were?”

  “Elaina Garcia, Tessa Moretti’s sister.”

  His eyes lit up with recognition before he turned back and glanced at the hockey game on the flat-screen TV at the end of the bar. “Should have known. You look like her.”

  Lainey moved closer, her nose twitching at the overwhelming scent of musk. The man must have taken a bath in the stuff. “Are you still interested in buying the vineyard?”

  “Who wants to know?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the TV.

  “Tessa willed her half to me when she died.”

  He twisted around until his knees touched the side of her bare thigh, a gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by either of them. “Is that right? And you’re looking to sell, why?”

  “I’m a reporter, Quinton.” She paused and smiled at him. “Can I call you that?” When he nodded, she continued. “I have a career waiting for me in Florida. The faster I sell, the faster I can get back to it.”

  He flexed his shoulders and leaned forward, his eyes holding hers. “I might be in the market. What’d you have in mind, Miss Garcia?”

  Despite the nausea threatening to bubble up in her esophagus, she leaned closer. “Call me Elaina.”

  Tessa slapped the bar. Thatagirl, Lainey. I was beginning to think all those smarts had suffocated your sense of adventure.

  Porter’s eyes held hers in a cold stare for a moment before his mouth tipped at the corners.

  Right now he’s thinking he’s gonna get a look at your lacy undies before the night’s over. He can’t keep his eyes off your legs. Probably pitching a trouser tent as we speak. Tessa grinned. You’re on a roll, Lainey. Bring him in for the kill. Just like I saw you do in Savannah.

  Lainey’s back straightened as she shot up in the chair, peering around Porter to stare at her sister’s ghost. When did Tessa ever see her in Savannah?

  Tessa lowered her eyes. No big deal. I saw you once when I landed at the Savannah airport on my way to Hilton Head. She waved her hand. Now get back to Porter before you lose your momentum.

  Lainey mentally filed away the remark for a future conversation when she and Tessa were alone. Tessa in Savannah was something that needed explaining. She raised her head and returned Porter’s gaze, determined to find out if he knew anything about her sister’s death. “Like I was saying, I’m looking for a quick sale and wondered if you were still interested in the real estate.”

  “Hell, yes!” he bellowed. “But the price has dropped a notch since your sister’s death. With her gone, Moretti has about as much chance of making the kind of money she generated as a one-legged cowboy doing the Cotton-Eyed Joe.”

  Now that’s the first intelligent thing that man has said all night. All this time I thought he passed up his opportunity to drink from the fountain of knowledge, and now I find out he may have stopped to gargle.

  Lainey grinned broadly at Tessa’s sharp wit, but she was immediately sorry. Porter took it as a good sign and leaned closer, letting his hand rest on her bare knee.

  The nausea rose higher, but she resisted the voice in her head screaming for her to slap the loser’s hand away. Instead, she studied his face. He wasn’t half bad, if arrogant cowboy was what she was looking for. Standing at least six feet tall without his boots, his broad shoulders filled the Western shirt while his tailored jeans hugged his slim waist. She found herself thinking it was incredulous that Tessa hadn’t slept with him. He was exactly her type. Or had she? Maybe that’s why she hated the guy so much.

  She shook off the image of her sister in bed with this joker. “I think we can work out a deal here, Quinton, if we put our heads together.”

  His hand moved an inch or two up her leg. “I’m sure anything’s possible when my head gets together with yours.”

  Christ! Can you imagine him with a personality?

  Lainey glanced at her watch, thinking that she’d already wasted enough time, and his hand up her leg was getting dangerously close to being whacked. “I hadn’t seen my sister in over nine years,” she said, feeling his fingers inch higher. “I was more surprised than anyone when she left me her share of Spirits of Texas, but to tell you the truth, her death was a godsend.” When he looked confused, she added, “I need a sizeable chunk of change to set myself up in Florida.”

  “Yeah, I hear you. I never got along with your sister myself. Thought she was too good for me.” He snorted. “She had no idea what was going on behind her back. She was about to get the surprise of her life.”

  Hello! Tessa said, jumping off her stool and racing around behind Porter to stand by Lainey. You sorry bastard. Start talking.

  “Really? Why do you say that?” Lainey asked, hoping her eyes didn’t reveal her elevated interest. She tried to look nonchalant, but he had just dropped a bomb.

  For the first time, Porter acted less confident, probably pissed off at himself for telling her that. He took his hand off Lainey’s leg and swiveled his stool toward the TV again. After draining the remainder of his beer, he blew out a breath. “Let’s just say her world was about to change big time.”

  “I think dying qualifies as world changing, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I wasn’t talking about that
. I’m just saying she was surrounded by people who would have loved to see her crash and burn.” He raised his hand for another beer.

  Lainey’s investigative instincts kicked in. “That’s kinda what happened to her. Who wanted that badly enough to see her dead?”

  Porter threw back his head and laughed, an unmistakable hint of hatred and anger blending with the chuckle. “Easier to ask who didn’t. Your sister was a class ‘A’ bitch.”

  Bite me!

  “What about you, Porter? You stand to make one helluva profit because she’s dead.” Lainey stared him down, unable to explain her sudden anger.

  He grabbed her arm and jerked her toward him. “Now wait just a minute, sweet cheeks. Are you accusing me of something?”

  “You’re hurting me.”

  “That’s just too damn bad, isn’t it, missy? I wanna know who sent you here to question me. Was it Moretti? He’s the only one who knew I was in town.”

  Lainey attempted to break free, but he had her arm in a death grip. She could already picture the nasty bruise she’d have by morning.

  “No one sent me. Now let me go before I scream bloody murder.”

  “Oh, no you don’t. Not until I find—” He yelped as a hand reached around Lainey and pried his fingers from her wrist.

  “I believe the lady asked you nicely to let go of her arm.”

  Both Lainey and Porter did a 180 and came face to face with Colton Winslow, standing so close to Lainey, she could pinpoint a slight hint of garlic on his breath along with a pepperminty smell.

  Colt loomed over Porter, his eyes threatening, almost daring the oilman to react. “Is someone going to tell me what the hell is going on?”

  NINE

  COLT STARED DOWN THE oilman, still gripping his arm before he turned his glare on Lainey. “I repeat. What the hell is going on here?”

  Porter rubbed his wrist after Colt released it, then pointed to Lainey. “You might oughta ask her. I was minding my own damn business, enjoying a brew or two, and she comes on to me.”