“I think he hoped that his threat would scare us apart. He knew nothing of my relationship with Joe, or the truth about our sexuality, so I must have been a better actor than I ever thought for him to take me to be such a threat,” Archie said.
“It had nothing to do with the history of the curse, leadership, or any of that nonsense. By killing Archie, he would not only eliminate his competition for Poca, but it was an opportunity to catapult past me on the Hastings’ pecking order,” Joe added.
Two birds with one arrowhead.
Archie laughed. “Here I was worried about the consequences of being gay, and I almost got killed for a relationship with a girl.”
“And that’s why Poca agreed to go against our father’s wishes, and join Woodrow in having Archie murdered,” Joe said.
“Poca agreed to murder Archie?” Gwen asked, confused.
“She knew it was the only way to save him. We knew there was no stopping Woodrow.”
“I fully understand how you’d be fearful of revealing your sexuality to an image-obsessed man who’d just ordered your kidnapping,” Gwen said, and turned her attention to Joe. “But you could have gone to your father with the information that your brother had planned to circumvent his orders. Or to Chief Vayo, who was not on board, and try to stop him.”
“Woodrow was obsessed with Poca … and power … and the knowledge of our family’s connection to the curse gave him the leverage he needed to get both. What could my father do to stop him? Tell the police? That would open up the entire family history, and that of the Samerauks, to examination. Basically he had carte blanche to do what he pleased, and he knew it. Which is why we needed to work around him.”
Archie added, “As far as us coming out, sure, that might have made me less of a threat to Woodrow, but it would have also created new dangers. Woodrow was a scary problem, but an isolated one that we thought we could deal with. What if the families had thought Poca or Joe had told me about the curse, and the kidnapping attempt? If they believed that their longstanding secret was in jeopardy, having fallen into the hands of a family they were at war with? I would still be a target, as might Joe.”
“So how did you go about working around him?” I asked.
“Luckily, we had a secret weapon on our side,” Archie said, and patted Joe on the shoulder.
“Two things about my brother—one is that he never does the dirty work. And secondly, he always has an alibi. So when I came forward, claiming a change of heart, and offered to be the one to kill Archie, it was his perfect scenario. If things went right, it was his idea … if they went wrong, he could wash his hands of it. And in any scenario, he would remove his biggest competition for Poca, and increase his power within the family.”
Joe Jr. stared across the table at us, and stated, “I knew the only way to save Archie was to kill him myself.”
Chapter 64
“Just to be clear,” Gwen said. “You’re saying that Woodrow Hastings ordered the murder of Thomas Archibald?”
“And he would have gotten away with it, if Joe and Poca hadn’t stepped in,” Archie said.
Gwen thought for a moment, before adding, “When I recently spoke to him, he told me that it was the work of Chief Vayo. That the plan was to kill Archie, and then set Woodrow up to take the fall.”
“But he was too smart to take the bait … I’ve heard that one before,” Joe Jr. said.
“The strategy of both families has always been to point the finger at the other side. That way nobody realizes that there are no sides—just one team,” Archie added.
“Except in this case you weren’t,” I said. “Woodrow believes that Archie has been murdered, and that’s who was found in the river. You are on competing teams—he just doesn’t know it.”
“Maybe so, but we all have the same interest—to keep Archie dead and buried,” Joe said.
“Which takes us to the night Thomas Archibald died. How did it go down?” Gwen asked.
Archie shrugged. “You’ve already read it in the police report. Everything told to the police was true—Woodrow did attack us, and yes, I did give him a good shot with that poker,” he said proudly.
“We knew that most conspiracies are not ruined by lies, but by the difficulty of keeping the lies straight,” Joe added.
“But there is no mention in the police reports about Joe Jr. being the faceless man in the bathrobe that Poca ran back to tell the others about. Or that the alibi provided him by Preston Ranney was bogus,” I countered.
“That’s true,” Joe said. “We could only respond to the questions we were asked—nobody brought that up. Luckily for us, there were no JP Warners in the local media back then.” He grinned.
“But how did you get the car into the river?” Gwen asked.
Joe looked puzzled. “I never put any car in the river. Once Archie was safely hidden away, I drove his car to our family estate, and parked it in an empty horse stall. At that point, there was nothing left to do but to wait for my parents to return from their trip to Los Angeles.”
“By the time they arrived, I had been reported missing, and the entire town was looking for me,” Archie said.
“I’ll never forget the look of shock on my father’s face when I told him that I’d accidentally killed Thomas during the attempted abduction. He didn’t even think I would be involved. I made up a story about feeling a responsibility to protect the family name. He was mad that his orders were not properly executed, but I could see his pride in me return.
“I detailed a struggle by the bridge, and how Archie tumbled down the hill, hitting his head. But I acted quickly, and disposed of his body at the old gristmill that our family owned, where it would never be found. But the car would be more problematic, so I brought it home and hid it.
“Woodrow of course played it up that I was an incompetent nincompoop who had gone against our father’s wishes, but it backfired on him. My reputation had been restored in my father’s eyes, and Poca wanted nothing to do with him. But he had no choice but to go along, and the first order of business was to rid ourselves of any evidence, meaning Archie’s car.
“My father called Chief Vayo to an emergency meeting at the farm, but he was so angered by what happened—especially since he had warned about returning the curse—that he cut off all relations with my family. So Poca represented their family at the meeting, unbeknownst to her father.
“Then on Monday night, the car was brought to an isolated area on the property, the spot where my father would later be buried. We rolled up our sleeves—me, my father, Woodrow, and Poca—and dug a grave for the Studebaker Lark. Half of those there that night believed that Archie was dead, the other half was happy that they believed he was.”
I looked to Archie. “And where were you while this was going on?”
“I was camped out in the tunnels beneath the old mental hospital. Of course, those tunnels were there long before the hospital—the Samerauks built them when it was their land. That’s how Poca knew about them, and she was able to hide me. She would leave me food in the abandoned cafeteria. I would come out at night when it was safe, and try to beat the rats to it.”
“How long were you there?” I asked.
“The longest eight months of my life. And not exactly how I planned to spend my senior year. By the next summer, it was assumed I had either run away or was long dead. Most of the town had moved on. I left on July 4. With all the celebrations and fireworks over the river, it was quite easy to slip away unnoticed.”
I fast-forwarded to the present, asking Joe, “Why did you risk meeting with Poca in New York?”
He looked impressed that I knew. “In all the years that followed, this was the first real crisis. I hadn’t spoken to Poca in thirty years, but I was to be back east to visit a client, so I thought it would be best we meet to decide how we should proceed.”
“Did you know she met with your brother right before you?”
“That wasn’t a coincidence—we needed to know his mindset.
He’s the only one left from that night who believes I murdered Archie. So if he thought the body had returned, or I hadn’t really disposed of it in the gristmill, then we weren’t sure how he would react. But what we realized was that Woodrow isn’t our biggest threat.”
“Do you have any idea who is?” Gwen asked.
“That’s the scary part. Someone has obviously gotten hold of information that only those involved that night would know.”
“But you have brought people outside the circle in—Preston Ranney for instance,” I played devil’s advocate.
“Preston is the most loyal man I know,” Joe said, sounding annoyed that I would even question it.
“And no offense, but you’re an admitted alcoholic. I know when I have a few too many, my lips get a little loose. Could you have told someone during your drinking days?”
“If you’re referring to Bryant Ranney, then you must know that was strategically leaked. And I would mostly drink alone, out of shame. I doubt I spoke out of turn, unless it was to an empty room.”
“What about your mother? I got the feeling she knew more than she was letting on,” Gwen addressed Joe Jr.
“For all intents and purposes, my mother has already lost one child. She can be cantankerous, but she would never harm our family.”
“But what if she let something slip, let’s say, when she was feeling relaxed during one of her massages with the Vazmanian Devil?” I asked.
Joe rolled his eyes. “Vaz Salvador is a parasite who is all about money. If he were involved there would have been a ransom. Plus, I would think that the person behind the hoax, or the car in the river, would have to have a strong knowledge of Rockfield, which he doesn’t.”
I blew out a sigh. “Well, someone went through a lot of trouble to dig that car up from your yard.”
“I don’t know how it got in the river, but I can confirm that it’s not me in that driver’s seat,” Archie said.
Which led to my next question, the one that nobody in this room had an answer to. “Then who is in that car?”
Chapter 65
I saw that both Archie and Joe Jr. could use a break. Revealing a story that had been kept bottled up for half a century had to be exhausting.
But Archie beat me to it, suggesting we get some food. “I hate to be the one to break a stereotype, but we can’t cook a lick, so how about we pick up some burgers from Brannan’s Grill?” he suggested.
Archie was rapidly moving up on the list of my favorite dead people who weren’t really dead, passing Elvis. Especially since I thought I was doomed to a haughty wine-country meal that was low on portion size, but high on leafy green things.
When Joe Jr. left for town to pick up the order, Archie, along with his two chocolate labs that he termed his “key grape consultants,” gave Gwen and me a walking tour of the vineyard. He was in his blue denim work clothes to which he added a baseball cap with the WSW logo on it. He had clippers and pruning shears attached to his belt, which I assumed were the tools of a vineyard man.
I could see why he was eager to show off the place. It was built into a hillside almost a thousand feet above the valley floor, and was framed by towering redwoods. It had a breathtaking view of northern Napa Valley, including the imposing Mount St. Helena in the distance.
“This place is amazing,” Gwen gushed.
“It’s come a long way, no doubt. When I first started back in the early 1980s, it was just me. I cleared the place, planted it. I was the vineyard manager, business manager, and winemaker all wrapped into one. I’ve gotten better at delegating these days, and allowed Darcy to hire a staff, but I’m still up at sunrise when the crew arrives.”
He went on to explain that it was very small compared to most vineyards in the area, and that he preferred to focus on quality over quantity. So much so that he had a rare 98 rating from Wine Spectator magazine.
As we continued to walk, it was clear that Archie was a hands-on owner. He knew every inch of the place, and even claimed that he had named each and every grape plant. I found that to be less than believable, and my instincts were to question it, but I didn’t want to jeopardize my burger. I was a compromised reporter.
But luckily Gwen’s integrity was intact. It was clear that Archie wanted to stick to discussing the vineyard business, but she persisted, “After all these years, why not go public?”
We kept walking through the rows of plants, and Archie would occasionally stop to trim one. With his eyes on his work, he said, “Maybe I don’t want to be Thomas Archibald. I’ve been Ward Seifert for fifty years, and I like him better.”
“I didn’t say you had to give away your current identity, but maybe let people know that Thomas Archibald is alive. There’s a lot of time and energy being spent on you back in Rockfield.”
“I would guess that I’d been long forgotten back home, until this mystery person decided to bring me back to the forefront. Not to mention, the man who ordered my murder, Woodrow Hastings, is still alive, and with much to lose.”
“But if you went public, he’d be off the hook,” I said. “I don’t think it’s against the law to cover up a crime that never occurred.”
His eyes remained focused on the plants. “I wish it were that easy, but this is much bigger than me or Woodrow Hastings, or any one person. What I know could damage an empire that was built on blood money from the curse business, over hundreds of years. There are people in power that will not allow that.”
“But it’s not bigger than Joe, is it?” I asked.
This got him to look up, and there was worry in his eyes. “I’ve lived my life without restriction, and I’ve never hidden like I was in the witness protection program. The only concessions I’ve made were a new identity, and I hired an actor to do publicity for my company. But if I’m found to be alive, that could put Joe in danger. The reason he isn’t considered a threat to them is because it’s believed that he murdered me, which makes it in his best interest to keep what he knows about the family business quiet. He sacrificed to save my life, so I can’t be responsible for him losing his.”
“You didn’t mention Poca … she also saved your life,” I said.
“She did, and I’m forever indebted to her. But she is now in charge of a kingdom that was built on that blood money. I believe that those in power will do whatever it takes to remain there, and can rationalize most anything in the process. It’s why I had great concern about Joe meeting with her.”
“Do you think she’s involved in the recent incidents?”
He shook his head. “Not at all—her motivation would be to protect the establishment, not bring it down.”
“Then any thoughts on who might want to bring it down—who this mysterious third party might be?”
“How do you know that it wasn’t Joe or me? We have the incentive to keep me dead, and finding my body would do that. And Joe did make a trip to the area the day the car was recovered.”
“It wasn’t you—you want to distance yourself from this. The person behind this has a score to settle with those involved,” I said.
I could tell he was done discussing the subject, and his mood perked up once we returned the topic to his grapes. He also had a good sense of his surroundings—probably why he was able to thrive all these years under his alias—and he sensed that Gwen and I could use some time alone.
After he excused himself, and returned to the house, I grew more nervous than I had ever been in my life.
Chapter 66
The sun was setting over the manzanita trees in the distance as we stood high above the rolling vineyards of Napa Valley. My arm was around my best girl as we stood on top of the world.
I decided that Tonya was wrong—there was a perfect time and place … and ready or not, this was it.
I reached into the pocket of my sport coat and wrapped my perspiring hand around the small box. I stepped away from her, and knelt down. I opened the box, the setting sun perfectly hitting the purple diamond of the ring.
I
then asked Gwen Delaney for her hand … and heart … in marriage.
She just stared at me, saying nothing. At first I thought she was just overwhelmed by joy, but as the silence continued I was back in that dream. I held the box closer, as if she hadn’t really seen what was inside. Or maybe the sun had blinded her.
She began walking away. I remained kneeling, not sure what to make of it.
She stopped a couple of steps away, as if she needed those few feet to collect her thoughts. She turned back toward me, her face flushed with anger. This was not the way it was supposed to happen.
“Are you going to say something?” I asked, rising to my feet.
“I already did.”
“I think I would have remembered it if you did.”
“How many hints did I have to give you? Every time you even got near the subject, I let you know what I thought. If you can’t read me by now, then we’re a long way from being ready for this.”
This? It was like she couldn’t even bring herself to say the word marriage. “I want to spend the rest of my life with the woman I love—so sue me for wanting happily ever after.”
“It’s your version of happily ever after, not mine. But it doesn’t matter what I think, does it? I’m just a prop in the JP fairytale. Did you ever think to have a discussion with me about it?”
“I just thought …”
“I know why you see things the way you do, JP—I get it. You come from the perfect family situation—marriage was happily ever after for your parents, and your brother … that’s great.”
“My family is far from perfect.”
“Well, here’s my perspective on marriage. It was the thing that ripped my heart out as a girl when my parents got divorced. That’s why I was so determined to find Mr. Safe, when I got married. And you know what, there is no such thing as safe when it comes to that. I’m sorry this doesn’t fit your vision, but it’s mine, and you would have known that if you had ever asked me.”
Psycho Hill (JP Warner Book 3) Page 26