Seven Sisters (18 page)

And why, pray tell, is that suddenly important to you?
I asked myself in the mirror as I fiddled with my curly hair, now past my shoulders, first braiding it, then pulling out the braid and touching it up with a hair pick to show off its thickness. I darkened my eyelashes with mascara and even gave a perfunctory swipe of blush to my cheeks. After staring at myself in the mirror for a truly embarrassing amount of time, I made a face at my reflection.

“You’re pathetic. There’s no way you can compete with her looks and style.” I looked down at Scout’s sympathetic gold eyes. “Is there?” His tail thumped twice on the carpet.

I grabbed his muzzle and shook it gently. “You didn’t have to agree so quickly, Scooby-doo.” After feeding him and giving him a rawhide chew, I headed downtown. It took me fifteen minutes to find a parking space, not unusual for a Saturday evening when there is a downtown event. Two blocks away, the Zydeco band Varise’s Red Hot Daddies perched on the steps in front of the mission. The party was already in full swing when I reached the line to enter the roped-off area. After getting my hand stamped and receiving my authentic “Zin and Zydeco—the Only Way to Go” wine-tasting glass, I headed for the food booth set up by Momie Fontenot’s Authentic Cajun and Creole Cookin’.

The tantalizing smell of the spicy Cajun sausage persuaded me to eat before I attempted to find Gabe. I took my paper plate of red beans, dirty rice, sausage, blackened chicken, and hot cornbread to one of the long picnic tables they’d provided behind the twenty or so wine-tasting booths. I sat down next to a group of four people dressed completely in black except for their zebra-patterned vests trimmed with sequins and matching Mardi Gras masks. One of the females had a long black feather boa trailing down her back. But this was a mostly casual affair, and T-shirts with silly sayings outnumbered the Mardi Gras costumes: “Forgive Me for I Have Zinned,” “It’s So Good, It’s Zinful,” “Zin-sational!” “Zinners Wanted.”

Up front the band had announced their next number, a wild dance song called
Valse a Beausoleil,
and the zebra clan left to start dancing on the large concrete area in front of the band. I finished up my food and joined the crowd wandering from wine booth to wine booth, tasting the different zinfandel wines. All the booths were decorated with purple and green flags celebrating the Cajun theme and had bowls of unsalted crackers and bottled water for tasters to cleanse their palates between tastings. At the Seven Sisters booth JJ and another young woman poured samples of two different zinfandels—both named after Cappy’s racehorses—Chum Dash Zinfandel and Dashing Rose Zinfandel. JJ’s face brightened with a smile when she saw me.

“Do you have a minute?” I asked.

“Sure.” She turned to the other girl. “Hold down the fort for a little while, okay?”

We walked over to the ivy-covered fence overlooking San Celina Creek. Across the water, people at the cafes were enjoying the Cajun music from afar. The energetic, addictive rhythms of the electric fiddle, squeeze box, and aluminum washboard had me itching to move my feet, too, and after my conversation with JJ, I was determined to find D-Daddy and claim my dance.

“What’s going on?” JJ asked, chewing at a raw red spot on her lip.

“I went out to Seven Sisters today and talked with your uncle Chase. He also told me Giles had been fooling around with one of the tasting room employees. A twentyish redheaded lady with freckles.”

Her tongue came out and licked her dry lips. “I think her name is Sheila. She’s only worked for us for about six months, but I doubt that she’s the first. I told you Giles wasn’t faithful, but I never like to know any of the details. He’d come on to both me and Bliss. He was quite impressed with himself, to say the least.”

“Do you think Arcadia got fed up and decided he’d fraternized with the help one time too many?”

She shook her head in doubt, her pale cheeks burnished gold by the early evening light. “Now that I’ve really thought about it . . . somehow I just can’t imagine Arcadia doing that, even if she did know how to shoot. She’s just not brave enough. What I mean is, she isn’t nervy enough. Besides, she’d have cracked in a minute when the police questioned her.”

“But her grandmother or her great-aunts wouldn’t.”

JJ’s eyes widened. “No,” she whispered. “They wouldn’t.”

I gave a deep sigh, feeling real empathy for her, one of the few innocent Brown family members. “I had another conversation with your mother. She told me you talked to her this afternoon. I’m glad.”

JJ looked ready to burst into tears. “She said she was going to talk to you. I knew if you told the detective, she’d be questioned again, and I didn’t want her to think I was sneaking around behind her back. It never occurred to me that Bliss got the note from her. I thought Bliss was only protecting Cappy.”

“Your mom’s pretty upset that Bliss and you are involved. She said she was sorry she came back and even sorrier you and Bliss are here.”

“She’s always tried to protect us, but now I think she needs our help. It’s her family and, whether she likes it or not, ours, too. So, now that you know who gave Bliss the note, what do we do?”

“I have a problem, JJ. I also ran into Cappy when I was there and foolishly tried to find out what was going on with the winery now that Giles is dead. I think I might have blown it with her. She asked me not to come out to the ranch again without calling first even though she knew that Bliss specifically invited me. She’s suspicious, and I don’t think I can safely ask any more questions.”

“What are we going to do, then?” she asked, tears filling her eyes. “Bliss is the one I’m really worried about. She came over to my house after work this afternoon because she felt too sick to drive to the ranch. I’m afraid something bad’s going to happen. She loves Cappy as much as she does me, Susa, and Moonie. I’m not sure how she’ll take it if Cappy is the one who killed Giles.”

“We don’t know that yet. A note that may or may not be blackmail is only circumstantial evidence. That much law I do know. As for Bliss, talk to your mom and see if the two of you can convince her to stay with you in town for a few days. If she’s not at the ranch, maybe she’ll calm down.”

“I’ll try, but Bliss feels so darn responsible. Like she has to protect all of us every minute. We have to do something.” She watched me expectantly, waiting for me to think of something. I felt like screaming, “Who put me in charge of piecing your family back together?” A slight tremble in her hand when she reached up and touched her blue-veined temple caused pity to well up inside me.

“I still haven’t talked to Detective Hudson about all this,” I said. “Or Gabe.” Below us in a cafe courtyard, a group of people laughed uproariously at something. I was tempted to walk away from JJ and this whole situation and join them. “Once I do, it’s out of our hands. Your family’s going to come under some tough scrutiny.”

“I know, and it’s all my fault. I guess I should have gone directly to my mother with that note.” She turned and grasped the metal fence, staring down into the bubbling creek.

Except doing that and then destroying it would have dug both her and Bliss deeper into a possible murder coverup, not to mention add another brick to the wall of Brown family secrets. “Do you really think Bliss could have destroyed that note and remained a cop?” I asked softly. “The guilt would have driven her crazy. Frankly, I think you did her a favor by bringing it out in the open. You did something for her that she couldn’t do for herself.”

Her face softened in relief. “All I really want is the pressure to be off Bliss. Do you think talking to Gabe and this detective will do that?”

“I have no idea, but I also have no choice but to tell them what I know. Maybe you shouldn’t be telling me any more if you think it might compromise your family. If you need a lawyer, my friend, Amanda—”

“We have tons of lawyers,” she broke in, her voice sharp. “What I need is a friend, Benni. Someone who isn’t just out to pin this killing on anyone they can find without regard to who it hurts. As crazy as they all are, they are my family, and I care about them.”

“I’m doing the best I can,” I said, fed up with the whole business. “I’m not a trained investigator.”

She wrapped thin arms around herself in a self-comforting hug. “I’m sorry, Benni. I just don’t know where to turn.”

“I’ll talk to Gabe and Detective Hudson, then get back with you.”

“Do you have to tell that detective it’s me, Bliss, and Susa who have seen this note? Can’t you just say . . .” Her thin nose flared in agitation, like one of her grandmother’s racehorses. “I don’t know . . . say . . .” A sob escaped from deep in her chest.

“I have to tell him the truth. No matter how Bubba Joe Bob he looks, he’s not a stupid man. He knows we have a relationship. He’d figure it out.”

She glanced over at the wine booth where the other girl was pouring frantically. The girl gave her a pleading look. “I’ve got to get back to the booth.” She turned abruptly away and headed back to the crowded booth.

Frustrated at being in a situation where I had no idea where to turn, I walked back over to the edge of the crowd to watch the dancers twirl and Cajun two-step to the band’s hypnotic beat. I scanned the crowd for my husband, determined to pry him away from his ex-wife long enough to drop all I’d learned today in his very capable lap. His dark head wasn’t visible to me even when I hopped up on a small concrete wall and peered over the bobbing heads.

“Señor Jose Friday, where are you?” I muttered, jumping down.

In the next moment, I felt a hand grab my elbow and a low, comically villainous voice whispered in my ear, “Lady, I got your number. Spill the beans before I lock you up.”

I twisted around to look up into Detective Hudson’s grinning face. Jerking my elbow from his hand, I said, “That dialogue is the most pathetic I’ve ever heard.”

“Almost as bad as my taste in boots?”

I glanced down at his feet. They were clad tonight in a pair of dark brown plain leather ropers with one scuffed toe. “Those actually look like they might have worked a day or two.”

“They’ve seen their share,” he said. “Are you looking for the chief? I think I saw him over at the Sierra Robles wine booth. Had the mayor, a couple of city council members, and a very striking Hispanic woman with him.”

I ignored his barb. “We need to talk. I’ve got some information about the Brown family you should know.”

“Figured as much. After your talk with Chase, the mother, Susa, and the Girard girl with the crazy hair, I had an inkling we’d need a consultation.”

“You’d probably get more accomplished on this case if you’d spend less time following me and more time working on your own leads.”

“Didn’t have to follow far, Ms. Ortiz. The bench underneath where you and Miss Girard stood has great acoustics. You know, when dealing with a family with this much prominence in the county, I’d be keepin’ my voice a li’l bit quieter if’n I was you. That’s a little piece of country-fried advice from Bubba Joe Bob himself.” His exaggerated Texas drawl mocked me.

A slow blush crept up my neck. “So, I guess I don’t need to tell you anything, then. Later.” I started to edge my way around a group of people bouncing on the balls of their heels to the music.

“Not so fast,” he said, grabbing for my elbow again. But I was quicker and used my small size to weave through the crowd, leaving him in the wake of swaying human bodies. I’d talk to him tomorrow and fill him in on everything he hadn’t overheard, but for now I decided to let him stew in his own juices. This continual feint and jab ritual we’d established was beginning to wear on me. Right now, the one person I really wanted to talk to was Gabe.

I finally spotted him across the open-air dance floor, sipping a glass of pinkish wine and talking to the mayor and a deputy district attorney who was running for DA next month. Next to him, looking very comfortable and happy, was Lydia.

He’s still
your
husband, I told myself. I took a deep breath and started along the edge of the dancing crowd toward them. Before I could get very far, a hand grabbed mine, and in an instant I was out on the dance floor.

“Hey,
ange,”
D-Daddy said, twirling me to the raucous, firecracker beat of a souped-up version of Hank Williams’s “Jambalaya.” “You ready to shake a leg?”

I laughed and fell in with his rhythm, letting him lead me into steps, twists, and twirls I didn’t know were possible while the wild Cajun fiddler pushed the crowd faster and faster with his impossible-to-follow riffs. One song moved into another with only a few seconds for people to catch their breath and start again. Early in our third dance, after D-Daddy had twirled me around three, four, five times, I felt his hand leave mine and another, larger one take its place.

“Hey, Mrs. Ortiz,” Detective Hudson said, smiling his Tom Sawyer smile. “Did I forget to tell you these were my dancing boots?”

“What?” I sputtered as he twirled me around three times and spun me around the crowded dance area. It took every bit of concentration I had to keep up with him. Somebody had taught this man how to dance. As we moved around the other couples, I glanced over the crowd, looking for Gabe, hoping with pure petty juvenile revenge that me dancing with another man would seriously annoy him. Naturally he was nowhere to be seen.

At the end of the song, breathing heavily, I jerked my hand out of Detective Hudson’s and pushed my way through the milling people. He caught up and fell into step beside me.

“Man, haven’t moved like that for months,” he said, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “It’s like riding a bike, though. How about you? Did you enjoy it?”

“Where did . . .?”

“My mother owns a Cajun restaurant and dance hall in Beaumont, Texas,” he said, winking at me. “That’s where I was born and spent my delinquently formative years. Did I fail to mention I was half Cajun?”

Another exaggerated mother story. “Good-bye, Detective Hudson,” I said, disgusted.

He continued walking beside me, not speaking again until we reached my truck two blocks away.

“What is in those notes you and the Girard girl were discussing?” His face was dead serious now.