by Julie Thomas
They both ate, and the silence hung between them. Harper felt suddenly old and weary: would you look at him, passing on tips to the eager DS. Yet, in a way, it confirmed his progress, that he had knowledge worth sharing. Past colleagues would take the piss, good and proper, if they could see him now.
‘So, what’s the case you’re most proud of, sir?’ she asked suddenly. ‘If you had to choose your most satisfying day in the job so far.’
Harper put his sandwich down and smiled with satisfaction. That one was easy to answer. ‘The day that bastard Lane went down was a very good day.’
Crawford leaned in, interest written all over her face and her food forgotten. He was used to this reaction.
She nodded. ‘Everyone in the force heard about that one! What are the chances, someone witnessing the crime.’
He couldn’t help but feel proud, not that it was right to let it show. ‘We got a very lucky break, happens sometimes. And he was a reliable witness. A great guy.’
Crawford frowned, as though something had just occurred to her. ‘Huge thing to do, though, sir, an ordinary member of the public testifying against a mob boss in a murder case. Must have changed his whole life –’
‘Oh yeah, and some.’
‘How does a family react? Having to relocate, I mean it’s not just him –’
‘Brave people. Now, enough of the past! What do you do when you’re not working?’
The car park was nearly empty and the police headquarters sat in darkness, apart from a few windows of warm yellow light. Up on the seventh floor DS Crawford sat down in her boss’s chair and turned on his hard drive. She took a small black box out of her jacket pocket and plugged it into the USB port on the side of the computer monitor. When the screen prompted her she typed in DI HARPER, then pushed a button on the box. A line of dots scrolled in the password prompt until there was a tiny bell sound and the screen opened to reveal a desktop of files. She pulled the box out and put it back in her pocket.
The corridor outside the room was empty, apart from a cleaner, who wandered out of an office and put a plastic rubbish bag onto his trolley. His earphones were connected to an iPod strapped to his upper arm, and he hummed in time to the music as he pushed the trolley along the corridor before stopping outside a closed door. He checked his watch and opened the door.
Crawford looked up, startled at the interruption. ‘Hello?’
‘Oh! So sorry, ma’am. I didn’t know you was still here,’ he said as he ripped the earphones from his ears.
She smiled broadly at him. ‘No problem. Catching up. Do next door and then come back. I’ll only be a few more minutes.’
‘There’s no hurry, ma’am. So sorry.’
He shut the door, and she got up, moved to the printer and retrieved a coloured picture of Merlot.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
ROCKY BAY
Vinnie was making his way back to the house on a quad bike. In the middle distance he could see Anna hard at work in her new vegetable patch, weeding between rows of beetroot, carrots, silverbeet, broccoli and potato plants. It was December, early summer, and the weather on the island was a few degrees warmer than on the mainland.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a small Holden ute climbing the hill towards his gate. Who was it this time? Occasionally people turned up and asked to taste the wine, and, although they didn’t sell from the winery gate anymore, he always took them to the tasting room and laid out the range available. More often than not they joined the mailing list and ordered a case or two.
As his quad bike left the path and drove onto the crushed-shell turning circle, the ute turned in the gate and headed towards him.
He stopped the bike and stayed astride it, watching. There was something on the back, a crate.
The vehicle stopped a few metres away, facing him. He dismounted and walked towards it.
A pretty young blonde climbed out of the cabin. ‘Mr Darcy?’ she asked.
‘Guilty as charged. What can I do for you?’
She shook his hand. ‘I’m Paula from Pet Quarantine. We spoke on the phone? I’ve got someone here who belongs to you. He passed all his vet checks this morning with flying colours, so I thought I’d pop over to the island, deliver him and stock up on some grog.’
At that moment there was a loud bark from the back of the ute.
‘Merlot!’ Vinnie ran towards the crate.
The young woman followed him, unbolted the tray and opened the crate. The dog bounded out and onto the ground. He had grown more than Vinnie had expected, and his body had become sleeker, more streamlined.
Merlot barked and jumped up on him, licking furiously, and Vinnie rubbed his head and ears.
‘Hello, my gorgeous boy! How are you?’
Paula stood to one side, smiling and watching.
‘Merlot?’ Anna came around the corner, running towards them, gloves still on her hands, her eyes shining. ‘Did I hear my beautiful puppy?’
Vinnie pointed towards her. ‘Look, Merlot. It’s Mummy.’
The dog bounded over to Anna and jumped up, licking her face.
‘Oh, my God! Look how much you’ve grown! And how beautiful you are!’
Vinnie turned to Paula. ‘Thank you. I guess you’re used to these reunions.’
She nodded. ‘But you never get sick of them. It’s great to see pets and owners reunited.’
Merlot barked and circled them, and they both squatted and fussed over him.
Anna smiled up at Paula, tears in her eyes. ‘We’ve waited a long time for this. Thank you so much.’
‘My pleasure, Mrs Darcy. He’s been really good, but there’s no place like home and I can see how well he’ll be looked after here.’
Summer was the time for barbecues on Waiheke Island, and the dinner invitations were as regular as the hot, sunny days. Tonight’s was held at a home which Vinnie and Anna had become very comfortable visiting. It belonged to the potter Louisa and her husband, Andrew, the local vet. They lived on a block not far from Rocky Bay, grew grapes and made wine as a hobby. Several of Louisa’s works had made their way into Vinnie and Anna’s growing art collection.
The group sat on the wide veranda and watched the gulls circling over the sea in the distance.
‘How’s Merlot?’ Louisa asked as she refilled Anna’s glass.
‘You make Merlot?’ One of the other winemakers looked over at her, the surprise obvious in his voice.
Anna grinned sheepishly. ‘We do grow Merlot, yes, as part of the blend. But the Merlot Louisa is referring to is our dog, a chocolate Lab. He arrived the other day from England and he’s fine. Just loves the vineyard. Races around like a lunatic, chasing birds.’
‘It’s wonderful that you brought your dog out,’ Louisa said as she touched Vinnie’s shoulder and refilled his glass.
He smiled up at her and nodded. ‘Couldn’t leave him behind, he’s our baby.’
Louisa sat down. ‘So are your families coming to visit? Now that you’re settled here. I would miss my mum tremend–’
Anna cut across her firmly. ‘My parents are dead, Dominic’s mum is elderly. He has no brothers or sisters, and mine are all busy with their lives. We do miss friends’ – she raised her glass to them all – ‘but we’ve made such good ones here already.’
Vinnie nodded.
‘I’ll second that. This is such a civilised way to dine. That marinade was stupendous, Louisa – you should bottle and sell it.’
Andrew pointed to him. ‘That’s my secret family recipe. I could share it with you, but then I’d have to kill you, and we wouldn’t want that.’
Vinnie took a sip of the wine. ‘Indeed we wouldn’t,’ he murmured.
February 2013
The Waiheke Wine and Food Festival was an annual midsummer event, held at one of the island’s most popular vineyards. A broad rectangle of mown grass was covered in temporary accommodation. A white marquee stood in the centre, and smaller coloured tents were dotted down the side of a gently
rolling hill between bays of vines. Crowds milled around, drinking, eating, chatting and laughing. Tired patrons flopped onto shiny metal chairs, around white plastic tables under green sun umbrellas, to rest and regroup.
The summer air was heavy with the smell of food cooking – skewered garlic prawns sizzling on barbecue hotplates, pizzas fresh from a wood-fired oven, huge piles of smoky pork ribs, herb-crusted racks of pink lamb chops, enormous mussel fritters, plump venison sausages smothered with caramelised onions and served in soft white buns … All of the tents were full of sweaty bodies queuing to get to the laden trestle tables. On the other side of the tables stood the enthusiastic winemakers, pouring, talking, listening and selling.
At one end of the rectangle of lawn was a raised stage. People gravitated towards it, glasses in hand, to sway to the music of a seven-piece jazz band.
Vinnie stood on the stage and sang ’For Once in My Life’ in his rich baritone voice. Some of the women blew him kisses, and he winked back at them.
At the far end of the row of smaller tents, Vinnie’s singing echoed faintly over the buzz of conversation. A banner reading ‘Rocky Bay Winery’ was pinned to the back wall of the tent. Two trestle tables stood at an angle to each other, creating a semicircle area in which people congregated.
Gabby and two young women stood behind a table with open bottles of red wine and jugs of water in front of them. They filled a continuous stream of glasses while they talked about the wine.
Anna stood behind the other table, which was spread with single-bowl servings of chocolate mousse topped with a chocolate-dipped strawberry, platters piled with truffles, chocolates and pieces of chocolate-dipped fruit, and a stand of small chocolate bars wrapped in gold foil. Merlot lay on the grass under Anna’s table and chewed on a rawhide bone.
Louisa contemplated the array of chocolate goodies and sighed. ‘It all looks just too delicious! We were saying only the other night, Ava, what a blessing you and Dominic are to island life. How dull it was before you rescued us! Dominic really should join the Waiheke Winemakers committee.’
Louisa was a touch ostentatious, but she meant well and she offered very genuine hospitality tinged with more than a little genuine curiosity. Anna smiled warmly at her. ‘Thank you, Lou. Everyone has made us feel so welcome.’
Louisa picked up a flat chocolate shape and turned it over in her hand. ‘What’s this little masterpiece?’ she asked.
‘A dried apricot, soaked overnight in Grand Marnier, then dipped in dark chocolate, and those are vodka cherries in milk chocolate.’
Louisa gave a little giggle. ‘Dear Lord! As if the chocolate wasn’t enough, the alcohol makes it feel ever so slightly sinful,’ she said in a half-whisper.
Anna ate a cherry, slowly and with relish, the juice trickling down her chin.
Louisa almost bit into the apricot, then frowned and put it down.
Anna suppressed a smile. ‘You know, when I first met Dominic he insisted that chocolate could absorb alcohol in the bloodstream. He made it sound so convincing, I fell in love on the spot,’ Anna said in what she hoped sounded like a conspiratorial tone.
Louisa looked at Vinnie in the distance as he bowed to an appreciative audience. ‘Oh, and I can understand why,’ she murmured to herself.
On the stage, the band struck up a new song and Vinnie clicked his fingers. It was a day to stand back and look at how far he had come, singing on stage at a festival while people sampled their wine and Anna’s chocolate. Safe and warm and living the dream.
‘Oh, yeah! Great choice, boys! Here’s one for all our talented winemakers. We love you all!’
The people on the grass started to clap and sway to the gentle melody as the soulful strains of ’Red Red Wine’ rang out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
HERMAN D GRANGER
An enormous man in an exquisitely cut pale-blue linen suit, a striped shirt, a silk cravat and a Panama hat stepped into the Rocky Bay tent. Herman D Granger was six foot five and weighed two-seventy pounds. He dressed in custom-made suits and carried a black walking stick with a solid silver wine glass as the grip. He was an American, a wine judge, and a critic with a widely read online blog – and a keen sense of his own importance.
‘Ah, Rocky Bay! Now, I’ve heard about you.’
His southern drawl carried through the small space, and heads turned as bodies stepped aside to make room for him.
He tipped his hat as he passed. ‘Much obliged, I’m sure. Bordeaux blend.’
He extended his hand towards Gabby. ‘Herman D Granger, wine critic.’
She shook it. ‘Gabby McLean, winemaker. And that,’ she said as she pointed towards Anna, ‘is Mrs Ava Darcy, co-owner of the winery. Yes, indeed, Bordeaux blend. What can I get you, sir?’
He bowed slightly in Anna’s direction, and she returned the gesture with a nod and a smile. Then he balanced his stick against the table and looked over at the bottles.
‘I was told you’re a must-try, m’dear. What’s your blend?’
Gabby picked up the bottles one by one and handed them to him. He examined each one in turn, and then put it down to receive the next.
‘Three blends. This is Decoro, a beautiful mix of second-press and free-run Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot. This is Gravitas, deep-press fractions of Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Cabernet Franc and Malbec. It’s a left-bank kind of Bordeaux, very, very popular. And this is our star, Celo.’
He turned the last bottle in his hands and looked up at her, enquiringly. The pride ran deep in her voice and was reflected in her smile and the sparkle in her eyes.
‘All five of our grape varieties: Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Cabernet Franc, Malbec and a little Petit Verdot. Deep-press, beautifully rich, dense tannins. Would you like to try all three, sir?’
‘I surely would! What a treat.’
She picked up a tasting glass and poured a swig of Decoro into it. He swirled the glass, put his nose into it, breathed deeply, then took a sip and drew in air over his tongue. He let it linger for a moment before swallowing.
‘Very nice.’
She took another glass and poured some of the Gravitas. He didn’t try any more of the Decoro, and they exchanged glasses.
‘I’m interested in the names,’ he said, before trying the wine. ‘Latin names?’
Gabby nodded. ‘The current owners, Dominic and Ava Darcy, are about to bring in their first harvest. But they have renamed the wines in the barrels. “Decoro” means to adorn or beautify.’
He repeated the process with the Gravitas wine and his face broke into a slow smile. ‘Now that’s a lovely wine. Soft and smooth, and a very clean after-taste. Tobacco and chocolate.’
Gabby beamed. ‘Thank you! I love Gravitas. It’s supposed to mean something serious and important, and I think it’s so well named.’
He took another long sip. ‘My, it certainly is.’
She poured some ruby red liquid from the bottle of Celo into a third glass. He exchanged glasses with her and held it up to the light.
‘Exquisite colour, m’dear. And Celo? If I’m not mistaken it means to hide something, to keep it a secret. So what is the great secret about this wine?’
She looked confused and straightened the bottles on the table to give herself a moment to collect her thoughts.
‘The power and complexity of the wine is a secret, until people taste it for the first time,’ Vinnie said, as he held out his hand towards Granger. ‘How do you do? I’m Dominic Darcy, and I own Rocky Bay with my wife, Ava.’
Ganger swapped the glass to his left hand and shook Vinnie’s hand. ‘Herman D Granger. English?’
Vinnie nodded. ‘Fresh from London.’
Granger swirled the wine, breathed it in then took a deep sip. He closed his eyes and stood very still. Eventually he swallowed, paused and took another sip. Then he opened his eyes and shook his head gently. ‘Magnificent! Absolutely magnificent.’
Vinnie acknowledged the praise with a slight nod. He was aware t
hat Gabby was squirming with delight beside him.
‘Thank you. It’s Gabby’s philosophy and attention to detail, from the grape to the bottle: near enough is not good enough.’
Granger picked up an unopened bottle and looked at Vinnie. ‘Corks? Interesting choice, and relatively rare here.’
Vinnie smiled at him. ‘I’ll change to screw caps when Mouton Rothschild does.’
Granger put the bottle down. ‘Well said, sir. Are you selling it?’
‘We’re taking orders for case lots,’ Gabby said.
‘Most of it goes by mail order. We’re a small winery,’ Vinnie added.
‘Then I would like two cases of this and a case of Gravitas. If I may.’
He took a business card from his pocket and handed it to Vinnie. ‘I’m here on a working holiday, always looking for grand stories. You probably know my blog, Fruit of the Vine. Modesty forbids me sharing the numbers, but I do believe it is one of the most widely read wine sites on the whole of the internet.’
Vinnie looked at the card, ran his hand through his curls and said nothing.
‘Could I be so bold as to ask if I may come visit your very fine establishment? If you’re not too busy, could I impose on you tomorrow? Only take an hour or so. I’m due back on the mainland tomorrow evening.’
Gabby’s eyes shone with excitement. ‘I’m sure that’d be fine, wouldn’t it, Dom?’
‘Absolutely. Gabby will show you around – she’s the star. And you can taste the vintages in the barrel. They’re going to be even better.’
Granger took another sip.
‘I’ll take your word for that, Mr Darcy, but this little beauty will take some beating. It would give second-growth Bordeaux a run for its money.’
The next day dawned clear and warm. Gabby was bubbling with an anticipation she hadn’t felt since the new machinery had arrived.
Herman Granger was prompt and as charming as ever. She met him in the driveway and escorted him to the tasting room. He gave her a running commentary on the wines he had tasted since arriving in the country, and she was delighted to hear that Rocky Bay was right up with the very best. She had done her homework on his blog and the awards he had won, and her flattery made him blush with pleasure.