3 Savor (19 page)

The north side of the shed was
already ablaze with flames shooting toward the afternoon sky. A garden hose
would probably do little to slow the progress of the fire on the building, but
maybe he could put down enough water to keep sparks from spreading to the
vines. The hose stopped and he looked back. He was at the end. Still not close
enough to do much good. He sprayed the ground around the base of the shed, but
couldn’t reach the entire side of the building. “Davy! See if Billie has
another hose to add on!” he yelled.

Ernesto was beside him in seconds,
with another hose. This one stretched from the back of the winery. One they
used for cleaning the cement floors. His sprayed farther, reaching the vines
closest to the building. He kept it raining over them, a shield of protection
against flying sparks.

He didn’t know how much time had
passed before the wail of a siren cut the air and he glanced toward the road. A
bright red fire engine raced down the drive. The team of firemen jumped out and
quickly attached their hose to the fire hydrant outside the winery. Working
together they advanced on the flames, sending a gush of water up and over the
entire wall of flame.

Adam stepped out of the way, making
room for the professionals. Smoke bellowed out and he moved back some more,
coughing into the crook of his arm. Billie appeared at his side. She grabbed
his arm, her face filled with fear.

She saw Ernesto and ran toward him.
It looked like they were arguing about something, but the vineyard manager just
kept shaking his head. Adam went and pulled her away from the action. She’d
told Davy to stay back by the house and he was still there, leaning against the
Corvette taking a video of the whole thing with Adam’s phone.

“I think I’m going to be a fireman
when I grow up,” he said, eyes wide with interest as he watched the men at work
putting the fire out.

“Why am I not surprised?” Adam took
the phone from him and pressed the red button to stop the recording. He glanced
up and saw Margaret pulling around the fire truck in her little pickup. She
parked on the other side of the Corvette and jumped out.

“What happened?” she asked, joining
them.

Billie shook her head, her mouth
tight with anger. “That’s what I’d like to know. Someone is trying to sabotage
this winery and I’ve had about enough of it.”

Adam met Margaret’s confused gaze.
He took her arm and walked away a few yards to speak privately. Billie didn’t
seem to notice. She stood with arms crossed, staring toward the burning
building.

“I’m not sure what started it.
Apparently, Billie thinks it has something to do with the other acts of
vandalism, but she went off on Ernesto a little while ago for some reason, like
she thinks he has something to do with it.” He shrugged.

Margaret looked around. “Where’s
Handel?”

“That’s the other thing. Billie called
me earlier. Said Handel went to San Francisco to speak with a witness. It just
so happens to be that creepy guy who threatened Billie the other day.”

“What?” She spun around, eyes wide.
“That guy had gang tats all over his body.”

He nodded. “She’s really worried.”

“So am I now. I’ll kill him when he
gets home.”

“Get in line.” He slanted his eyes
toward Billie.

The firemen had the flames
contained within fifteen minutes. They’d all once again managed to keep the
fire from damaging any of the vines, but the large outbuilding was a complete
loss. The fire had gutted it, destroyed the south and west wall and whatever
contents and tools weren’t burned in the flames were damaged beyond redemption
by smoke and water.

By the time they’d poked through
the charred rubble and ascertained that it was safe to leave it for the night,
the sun had slipped below the horizon, leaving streaks of cotton candy pink
behind. Ernesto and Sally were the only employees still hanging around and they
left once the firemen had packed up and led the way.

Margaret finally managed to get
Davy in the pickup. She kissed Adam and sighed. “He needs dinner and I want to
check on things at my place. This stuff is really freaking me out. What next?”
She shook her head. “Good night.”

“Night.”

He waved as they headed home. When
he turned around, Billie was sitting on the front steps of the house, head in
her hands. He went over and sat beside her on the step. “What a day, huh?”

She didn’t respond.

He felt his phone buzz in his
pocket and pulled it out. It was a text from Sabrina. Flew to Honolulu for a
luau. Be back tomorrow night. The car is parked at Harvest House Hotel. If you
need it, ask at the desk. Love, Mom.

Billie had pulled her phone out at
the same time. She was staring at the small screen, her mouth open in a look of
pure shock.

He tilted his phone for her to see.
“She sent it to both of us.”

His sister made a moaning sound
like a wounded animal. “Will this hellish day never end?” she demanded.

The sound of tires on gravel
interrupted their misery. Billie stood up and watched her Mazda slowly
approach. Adam intuitively knew that fireworks were about to commence and
decided to make himself scarce. He kissed her cheek and hurried to his car.

Before Handel had parked in the
garage, Adam was already flying down the highway toward his apartment. He
cranked up the radio and sang along to America, Ventura highway in the
sunshine, where the days are longer, the nights are stronger than moonshine…

•••••

Handel knew before he stepped out
of the car and approached his wife – who stood on the front porch, arms
crossed tightly, lips drawn into a thin line – that he was not
necessarily so lucky to be alive. He glanced back at the burned out shed and
knew that no matter how pressing the question was to ask, now was not the time
to worry about fire insurance either.

“Hey babe,” he said, moving closer.
“I’m sorry–” The word was barely out of his mouth and she was in his arms
crying. This was so not what he expected. So not like Billie.

“How could you do that to me?” she
demanded, pressing her cheek against his chest, arms wrapped securely around
his neck as though she’d never let him go. “I’ve been sitting around here
thinking you were shot or worse.”

“Worse than shot,” he teased, still
trying to get his mind around this new version of his wife. He half expected
she’d shoot him for not taking her along. Instead, she was clinging to him like
Velcro. He patted her back. “It’s all right. I’m fine.”

She drew slowly away and pulled his
suit coat open, eyes wide with fury. “What are you doing wearing a gun?” she
asked, her words a harsh whisper.

“It’s not what you think.”

“It’s exactly what I think! You
expected violence and you went anyway, without backup and without a lick of
sense.”

“Now you’re just being mean,” he
said, trying to get a smile out of her. It didn’t work. He put his hands gently
on her arms. “Look, I couldn’t take you. I did think it would be dangerous and
honestly, I didn’t think it would be wise to bring a woman into that
situation.”

“But it was perfectly safe for a
man, right?” She twisted out of his grip, now going straight from worry to
righteous anger. “That’s why you have a gun strapped to your side. What, did
you imagine you were the Terminator or something? You think being male makes you
invincible?”

“Billie,” he said, trying to
interrupt her diatribe so he could explain.

“You made me sit here all day long
sick with worry, going over and over in my head every horrible thing that could
have happened…”

“Billie!” He cupped her face with his
hands, bringing her eyes to his. “Hosea was already dead when I got there.
Someone shot him. The police showed up and I was put into the back of a
cruiser. I had to go down to the station and give my statement before I could
leave.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “Thank
God you got there too late,” she said and pressed her lips to his, kissing him
hard, salty tears and all.

Handel remembered the traffic jamb
that had held him up on the highway for an extra half an hour, causing him to
arrive on Bourbon Street within minutes of the murder. He added his own silent
prayer of thanks and held her tight.

After a soak in the Jacuzzi, Handel
and Billie sat cuddled together on the couch reading. He was rereading an old
law journal article while she lay with her head in his lap staring at the same
page of the novel she’d started twenty minutes ago. She finally put in a marker
and set it aside.

“I can’t concentrate,” she said and
sighed heavily. She scooted up to a sitting position, leaning her head on his
shoulder and looking down at his magazine. “When are you going to ask?”

“Hmm?”

“The fire? You didn’t notice one of
the sheds was missing and the air smelled like burnt toast when you got home?”
She ran her fingers down his arm. “You told me all about your experience in the
barrio. While you were gone the barrio came to the winery.” Neighborhood was
one word she’d actually picked up from Spanish television.

“What are you talking about?” He
laid the magazine on the coffee table.

Billie told him about her
conversation with Ernesto and how his cousin’s son just happened to be living
in the shed for the past few weeks unbeknownst to anyone. “He’s also a member
of the Maras. You think that’s a coincidence?”

He frowned down at her. “What did
Ernesto say?”

“When I accused him of harboring
the kid who shot at me? He refused to believe it, of course.”

“But you don’t know for sure that
this kid shot at you, or that he started the fire. Where was he when all of
this happened, anyway? I thought you said he’s been shadowing Ernesto.”

Billie shrugged. She was not proud
of herself for the way she accused her vineyard manager of knowingly harboring
a criminal. He didn’t deserve that. He was a good man, just trying to help a
lost boy. But there was something in his eyes when she spoke to him that looked
a lot like fear. So he must have suspicions of his own. “He was with him
earlier, but I didn’t see him when the fire broke out.”

“That is curious, and it does fit
with what Hosea told me on the phone.”

“He told you about Javier?”

He put his feet up on the coffee
table and leaned his head back. “No, not exactly. When I all but accused him of
shooting at you, he said we didn’t need to worry about him, but to look closer
to home for the culprit.”

“Closer to home. Well, the wood
working shed is pretty darn close.”

Handel glanced at his watch.
“Where’s your mother? Shouldn’t she be here cooking something elaborate for
us?” he asked, probably only half teasing. They hadn’t eaten dinner yet.

“I can’t believe I forgot,” she
said, shaking her head. “She had the gall to send a text message to tell Adam
and me that she was on her way to Honolulu.”

“An impromptu vacation?”

“You know what this means.
Salvatore is wining and dining my mother to get to Margaret, and she doesn’t
even have enough sense to see it.” She stood up and paced to the window and
back, feeling the tension tighten her chest again. “She’s not acting herself.
There is definitely something going on with her. I think she needs an intervention.”

Handel sat forward on the couch,
forearms braced on thighs. His brow was creased in thought. “How do you know
he’s using her to get to Margaret? Maybe he wants to get to your mom. She is an
attractive woman.”

She glared at him. “Did you really
just say that to me?”

He threw up his hands. “Sorry.
Trying to see things from both sides.”

“Well, stop it.” She ran her hands
through her hair pushing it back from her face. “She’s obviously having a
mental breakdown or something. Why else would a middle-aged woman get on a
private jet with a rich man she hardly knows to fly spur of the moment to
Hawaii for a luau on the beach?”

Handel looked at her, a crooked
smile curving his lips. He didn’t say anything but she could hear the words as
clear as if he did. What middle-aged woman wouldn’t want to live out that
fantasy? Billie only hoped her mother was strong enough to say no to anything
above and beyond dinner and wine.

She blew out an exasperated breath.
“Forget I asked.”

He stood up and put an arm around
her shoulders, turned her toward the kitchen. “Come on. Let’s eat. Talk of
luaus is making me very hungry.”

•••••

Their whirlwind flight to Honolulu
didn’t end there. Sabrina followed Edoardo to a helicopter pad, hair blowing
like mad as blades whipped the air around them. They ducked their heads and
hurried along, his arm possessively wrapped around her. The copilot held open
the door and took her hand to help her in, then spoke with her host for a
moment before climbing into his seat and adjusting his radio headset.

Edoardo settled in beside her and
showed her how to buckle the belt. His hands were hot against her skin when he
touched her throat and collarbone as he pulled it across her chest.

The pilot spoke into his radio,
gave a thumbs up and they lifted off. Flying over the city was beautiful.
Sabrina was entranced. Waikiki beach spread pale and white between high-rise
hotels and blue green waters foaming along the shore. They flew over Pearl
Harbor and the Diamondhead crater and Edoardo pointed out other places of
interest, speaking close to her ear, his hand resting on her thigh. She was
glad she’d dressed casually in black capris and a lacy yellow top today. She
didn’t know what she’d wear later but he promised on the plane that he would
supply any other clothes she might need. He’d said it with a subtle hint of
humor as though it was ludicrous to think she’d need anything more than a towel
and hotel bathrobe. The way he looked at her made her feel both hot and cold…
but that could just be her hormones acting up again.

They flew along the edge of the
island for a while, passing mile after mile of powdery white beaches. Edoardo
leaned across her and pointed out the coral formations coming into view.
“Kaneoche Bay,” he said close to her ear. “We’ll have a great view of Sacred
Falls soon. Have you ever seen it?” he asked, his lips nearly brushing her
skin.

She shook her head.

A valley of lush, green vegetation
rushed by, and he explained that it was a popular site for making Hollywood
movies. She nodded, trying to enjoy the ride in spite of the uneasiness she was
beginning to feel. He brushed a finger along her jaw to get her attention. She
looked down at the magnificent cascade of water. Even from the sky she could
feel its shear power and might.

“Gorgeous,” she breathed, trying to
take it all in.

They flew on until a resort lay
spread out before them. Tennis courts, golf course and swimming pools were
unmatched by the beauty of the surrounding beach and ocean. The pilot spoke
into the radio and soon landed on a heliport away from the hotel.

A car was waiting to shuttle them
the short distance to the resort. Edoardo spoke with the pilots, then stopped
to read a message on his phone while she climbed into the backseat of the car.
The chauffeur tipped his hat, “Aloha.”

“Aloha,” she said in return. She
was surprised the sun was still so bright. “What time is it?” she asked.

“Half past six, ma’am.”

“I forgot. We gain three more hours
on the islands, don’t we.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Edoardo joined her in the car and
they took a narrow curving road to the resort less than a mile away. He was
quiet, giving her space. Sabrina wondered if he’d tired of the game already. He
didn’t seem like a man who would give up easily, though. She felt sure she was
going to need to be firm tonight after the luau to persuade him that she wasn’t
ready for anything serious. Not that he would consider casual sex serious, but
she certainly did.

At the front desk he introduced
himself and the staff jumped to attention. They were shown to the presidential
suite where elaborate flower arrangements and bowls of fruit waited like tokens
of island hospitality. But Sabrina felt sure Edoardo had more to do with the
display than resort management. He waved the bellhop away after giving him a
generous tip for carrying his small overnight bag and laptop case.

With the door closed, Sabrina felt
rather vulnerable. She walked around the huge room, stopped to admire the
flowers, and lifted a strange red fruit she’d never seen before. “This is all
so beautiful, Edoardo. Have you stayed here before?” she asked, to lighten the
mood he’d fallen into.

“I’ve stayed here once or twice,”
he said, hanging his suit jacket in the closet. He moved leisurely toward her
loosening his tie and unbuttoning the top button of his starched blue dress
shirt with one hand. “I have a bit of money invested in this resort,” he
admitted with a shrug.

“Really? Which part do you own,”
she teased half-heartedly, backing up until her hip bumped the side of a
Victorian-looking fainting couch. “The golf course or the swimming pools?”

“Neither. I own the beds,” he said,
reaching for her.

She nearly tripped trying to
circumnavigate the couch, and ended up sitting down in the middle of it to keep
from falling.

“And the couches,” he said smoothly,
lowering himself beside her. His mouth descended on her bare shoulder and moved
upward to her neck, leaving a hot tingling trail of desire over her skin. This
was definitely going to be harder than she thought.

He pushed her slowly down until her
head rested on the pillowed arm of the couch and then cradled her legs in his
lap and leaned down to kiss her. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, letting
his lips stray to her neck and collarbone.

“So are you,” she couldn’t help
adding. “And so fit,” she said, feeling hard muscle beneath his shirt.

His laughter rumbled in his chest
before he captured her lips once more and she was lost in a deluge of senses.
She kissed him back, liking the power she felt at the way he showed his desire
for her. Middle age had sucked a lot of life out of her and made her feel
unattractive, unwanted, and most of all, unneeded. But this man –
handsome, rich, able to have any woman he wanted – desired her. It was a
heady drug that was quickly pulling her under.

She felt something stirring between
them and gasped. This was going too far, too fast. He reached down and pulled
his cell phone out of his slacks pocket, glanced at it and unwound himself from
her.

“I need to take this,” he said,
moving toward the adjoining bedroom. He closed the door between them with a
soft click.

She pulled up to a sitting position
and caught her breath, feeling like a prisoner on death row getting a last
minute reprieve. “Thank God,” she whispered. When did she start letting emotion
rule her head? Now was not the time to lose control. She was a fifty-three year
old woman, for heaven’s sake! Not a young innocent girl on her first real date.

Sabrina got up and grabbed her
purse where she’d left it sitting on a low end table. She should have insisted
immediately that they have separate rooms when she realized he’d secured the
suite for them both. But Edoardo insisted on the way up in the elevator that
with two elaborate bedrooms and bathrooms, and separate entrances, she would be
as alone as she wanted to be. And there lay the rub. How alone did she want to
be?

She hurried into the other bedroom
and shut the door, locking it for good measure. If Billie and Adam knew the
mess she’d gotten herself into, they would be shocked. After all the times
she’d harped on them to always have a back-up plan, she had run off without any
plan at all.

•••••

Adam played at The Screech Owl from
eight to eleven, but felt as though he’d done an all-nighter. He was wasted. He
drove home to his apartment and sank into his easy chair with a bottle of beer,
flipped on the television and watched the end of some old black and white movie
about a disembodied hand crawling around strangling people. How that worked, he
wasn’t sure. Really strong fingers? He clenched his hand around the neck of the
bottle and flipped to the news.

There was nothing interesting. A
small bit about Sloane Kawasaki’s offer of a reward to anyone who had
eyewitness information leading to the arrest of the real killer. Regardless, he
was on trial for his life on Monday and the reporter sounded almost happy about
it, like he had a vested interest. Adam shook his head. These news people
seemed to believe their own suppositions whether there were facts to back them
up or not. Guilty until proven innocent was the new mantra. He hoped he never
got caught in a false arrest, but if he did, he hoped Handel would take the
case. The man was dogged. He still couldn’t believe he’d driven into a
dangerous gang neighborhood of San Francisco to speak with a possible witness.

He pulled his phone out of his
pocket to check messages. He’d had it turned off at the club and forgot to turn
it back on. Nothing more from his mom, and he was really worried. Why would she
go off on a romantic interlude with a complete stranger? Sure she’d gone out to
dinner with him once and he obviously put on a great act, but according to
Margaret he was a real creep, even coming on to her the first time she met him
at Carl’s restaurant.

The adrenalin rush of fighting the
fire earlier had wiped him out. He leaned his chair back and kicked the
footrest up and scrolled through Margaret’s messages. Thanks for picking up
Davy today. He told me he got into a fight to protect a girl. Talk to you about
it tomorrow. Love you.

So he was right. The kid had gotten
into a fight. Sometimes he felt like he was witnessing his own childhood again.
Davy was a lot like him. Maybe that’s why they got along so well. He rubbed a
hand over his face and yawned. Sleep. That’s what he needed. His finger
accidentally touched the little camera icon and the video player blinked on. He
hadn’t slid it back to camera mode after Davy took the movie of the fire.