Tangled Vines (44 page)

Nearly a dozen pieces of luggage, a mix of gleaming black leather and floral tapestry, sat on the marble floor next to the front door when Kelly came downstairs the next morning. She looked at it and immediately sensed the significance of it.

“Good morning.” The familiar tap of Katherine's cane accompanied the greeting.

“Good morning.” With her hand, Kelly gestured toward the suitcases. “I see Natalie is leaving.”

“Yes. A car will be here to pick her up in a little over an hour. The coroner has finally released Emile's body for burial,” Katherine explained. “Natalie intends to accompany his coffin to the airport. From there, she will fly to New York, then on to France.”

“I see.” But Kelly hadn't anticipated that Natalie might leave quite so soon.

“Would you mind running down to the winery and letting Sam know? A new telephone system is being installed at the offices and the line is temporarily out of service. I know Sam will want to see Natalie before she leaves.

“I don't mind,” she told Katherine, but Kelly wasn't sure she wanted to see Sam yet. Or maybe she just wanted to see him too much.

As she walked out the door, Kelly realized it was time for her to leave. Not the valley, but definitely the house. Sam didn't understand and didn't approve of what she was doing. If she stayed here, there would be more arguments, more angry words. It was going to end between them anyway. Wasn't it better to pick the time?

A car door slammed, startling Kelly out of her thoughts. She was at the opening to the old bridle path. Turning, she saw Gil Rutledge. He looked the picture of vigorous health, casually dressed in sky blue stacks and a polo shirt, his leonine mane of silvered hair meticulously combed in place.

The phone call last night – it had worked. Why else was he here? This was what she had wanted, the result she had hoped to get, but Kelly hadn't expected him to contact her this soon.

He lifted a hand in greeting and came toward her, smiling easily. “Out for a morning walk, Miss Douglas?”

“I'm on my way to the winery.” Kelly worked to gather her wits, recognizing that she was going to need them.

“I thought over our telephone conversation last night, as you suggested. It's time for us to talk.”

“All right. When?”

“Now.”

“As I said, I'm on my way to the winery. You're welcome to come along or wait until I get back.”

“I'll come with you.”

Kelly lifted her shoulders, indicating the choice was his, that it made little difference to her. When she set off down the trail, he fell in beside her. They walked for several strides without talking.

Finally Kelly said, “You surprise me, Mr. Rutledge.”

“I do?” His smile was smooth and challenging.

“Yes. A businessman like you has to know that it isn't smart to appear too eager to make a deal. It's a sign of weakness.” The trail's deep shade closed around them, broken by scattered patches of sunlight.

“Maybe I've decided I don't want to enter into any kind of business with you.”

“That's entirely up to you.” There was a tension, a kind of excitement, lacing her nerves.

“Maybe I think you're casting blind to see if you can get anything to rise to the bait.”

“I attracted something, didn't I?” Kelly directed her smile at a squirrel darting among the tree branches. “You're here.”

“I made some phone calls this morning, Miss Douglas, I understand that you are in danger of losing your job.”

“Ah, but I still have my contacts in the media, Mr. Rutledge.”

“And I have attorneys who specialize in libel cases. I wouldn't go around making false accusations if I were you.”

“They wouldn't be false,” Kelly assured him, smiling as smoothly as he did.

He halted. “Prove it.”

Kelly shook her head at him in mock reproval. “That isn't the way it works, Mr. Rutledge. My father stands to go to prison for a very long time if he's convicted.”

“I never enter into any business deal until I know what I'm getting for it, and what my partner is bringing to the table. Personally, Miss Douglas, I don't think you have anything but a lot of hot air.”

“Enough to burn you.” Kelly resumed her strolling pace, forcing him to join her.

His expression was stern. “I am not amused.”

“I didn't think you would be.” She heard a vehicle coming up the drive, but the thick woods concealed it from view.

“I think you had better start talking.”

“What would you like me to talk about? The affair between the baroness and your son? Or I could talk about how she slipped away from the party to meet him. Unfortunately Baron Fougere must have been suspicious, because he followed her.”

“Speculation.”

“Oh, it's more than that, Mr. Rutledge. That is fact.”

“That hardly rates my time. If you don't have better proof than that-“

“I do.” They were approaching the bend in the trail. Not far beyond was the winery. “It could be I have a witness.”

“Katherine?”

Sam climbed out of the Jeep and glanced thoughtfully at the slate blue Mercedes parked in the driveway. A frown creased his forehead as he ran lightly and easily up the steps to the front door, of heavy Honduran mahogany. He walked into the marbled hall and noticed Katherine coming down the staircase.

“Sam.” A pleased smile curved her mouth. “Good. Kelly gave you my message.”

“Kelly?” Sam halted, his frown deepening. “I haven't seen her.”

“Really? I sent her to the winery not ten minutes ago. Perhaps she took the bridle path and you passed each other on the way. I wanted to be sure you knew Natalie is leaving this morning.”

“Is that why Gil is here?” Sam glanced at the luggage by the door. “Is he taking her to the airport?”

“Gil?” Katherine looked puzzled. “Why would you think that? He isn't here.”

“His Mercedes is parked in the drive.”

“How odd.” She walked over. “He never came to the door. I wonder if he is with Kelly.”

The minute she said it, Sam knew Kelly was with him. “Damn that woman,” he muttered and tightened his grip on the ignition key. “I told her to stay out of it. To stop asking questions.”

“Questions? About Emile's death? You think she is asking Gil about it?”

“Probably.” Sam swung around in irritation and reached for the door. “I'm going back to the winery and see if they're there. I need to talk to Kelly.”

“Wait. I want to come with you.”

“Why?” He paused, the door halfway open, his eyes saw the confused and troubled look on Katherine's face.

“Because -” She broke off the rest of the answer and impatiently waved at him to hurry.

“Dammit, Katherine, did you see someone else that night?” Sam demanded, suddenly angry with her. “Did you see Gil?”

She looked hesitant, unsure. “I...I may have.”

Swearing, he jerked the door the rest of the way open and charged outside.

“Katherine?” Kelly echoed Gil's question and shook her head. “Katherine says she saw Dougherty, my father,...and the ghost of a little boy with cold, accusing eyes.”

He stiffened slightly at that, then demanded, “Then who is this mysterious witness?”

“Did I mention I visited my father in jail before he escaped?” They rounded the curve. At the end of the tunnel of trees, the morning sun glowed on the rose brick walls of the winery. “Naturally we talked about what happened that night. He told me he heard voices, people arguing. He snuck along the building to see what was going on.”

“Are you telling me it's your father?”

Kelly ignored the contempt in his voice. “Of course, he was very drunk that night. He might have trouble remembering what he saw.”

“Is that what you're bargaining with?” Gil Rutledge shook his head in cold amusement. “You have nothing, Miss Douglas. You and I both know no jury in the world is going to convict my son of murder on the testimony of a drunk.”

Clay. She had to fight to conceal the sudden swell of elation. She had been certain when Gil showed up this morning that her father was innocent. But she had needed to hear it. Unconsciously she quickened her pace.

“But they would convict him if there were corroborating evidence, wouldn't they, Mr. Rutledge?”

“What evidence?” He pushed the words through a tightly clenched jaw.

“You're getting ahead of yourself, Mr. Rutledge. This is the place where you show me what you're bringing to the table.”

“How much?”

“I won't be greedy.” They had reached the clearing. The corner of the winery was not twelve feet away. “You tell me.”

He stopped. “I can't come up with more than twenty thousand in cash.”

Kelly swung around to face him. “Your son's not worth very much to you.”

“Later. I can get you more later.”

“The installment plan. Not bad.” Kelly nodded smoothly. She was pushing it. She could see the anger building, and she had no desire to see another display of his temper. “I'll tell you what.”

“No, I'll tell you.” He caught her wrist when she started to back up away from him. “The evidence. What is it?”

“When I get the cash, you'll get the evidence.” Hopefully by her next meeting with him, she would have convinced Ollie to wire her. The tape might not be admissible, but at least he would have to recognize her father's innocence.

“Not good enough.”

“Too bad.” Kelly tested his hold on her wrist. “That's all you're going to get for now.

“Like hell it is.” He jerked her closer.

“Let go of my arm,” she ordered curtly. “You're hurting me and I don't like to be hurt.”

“I'll hurt more than your damned arm if you don't tell me what the hell you've got.” He gave her wrist a hard turn and Kelly gasped at the pain that shot up her arm.

“Let go of her.”

Kelly looked in surprise at the burly, bristling figure of Claude Broussard. But the fingers around her wrist didn't loosen their grip.

“Miss Douglas and I are having a private discussion. You're interrupting it. Now get out of here. Go on.” Gil jerked his head to send Claude on his way.

“You will release her. Then, I will leave.”

“Listen, you stupid old man.”

“Old?” It was a roar. “You say that I am old? Me? Claude Broussard.” He launched into a tirade in French as he moved slowly but steadily closer to them.

Kelly stared at the wooden mallet Claude gripped like a weapon in his hand, and never saw the Jeep swing into the yard, making straight for them. Voices, her father had heard voices arguing, but he said he couldn't understand what they were saying. He couldn't understand, Kelly realized, because they had been arguing in French.

The mallet. Ollie had said two sets of fingerprints had belonged to workers at the estate. If one of them was Claude's – dear God, she had proof. The Jeep's engine was switched off, bringing a new silence to the yard.

“You,” Kelly murmured, then repeated it in a stronger voice, her gaze lifting to Claude's face. “You were the one arguing with Baron Fougere that night, weren't you, Claude?”

“What?” Gil's voice was small and dazed as his hand fell away from her wrist.

“Weren't you, Claude?” Kelly insisted, watching as the old man faltered, his face graying a little. In her side vision, she was conscious of two figures swiftly approaching – Sam and Katherine, she thought, but she didn't take her eyes off Claude.

“He said...I was too old.” There was a look of confusion, regret, even pain, in his dark eyes. “He said he would bring a younger man to take my place. He would not listen. I tried...”

“You killed him, didn't you?” Kelly said it gently carefully, trying to pry the admission from him. A breath was drawn in sharply by someone. Kelly refused to be distracted by the sound.

“He said it was decided. He was too busy. He put his hands on me to push me out of his way and I -” He seemed to choke on the words.

Kelly said them for him. “And you hit him?”

He nodded once, then his eyes misted with tears as he swung his big head toward Katherine. “Madam, it was an accident. I did not intend to strike him so hard. I...”

“Say no more, Claude.” She moved to his side, laying a hand on his arm and looking up, her own eyes brimming with tears. “Say nothing more please, Claude, until I can obtain an attorney for you,” she urged in a voice that commanded.

It was over. Kelly felt the draining of tension, the sagging of relief as she half turned and met Sam's gaze. The silence between them lengthened, growing heavy with strain.

“It seems your father was telling the truth,” he said at last. “He is innocent. This time.”

“I had to know that, Sam. I don't expect you to understand but I couldn't live with any more lies.” She took a step toward the office building. “I'll go call the police.”

“Kelly.” His hand reached out, as if to stop her. “I went to the house to tell you, I heard on the radio a few minutes ago, they caught your father.”

“Is he all right?” She looked at him sharply, thinking she heard something that said otherwise in his voice.

“Other than being dirty and tired and scratched up from scrambling around in the brush, he's fine.”

Kelly nodded, and glanced back at Claude. “I'll need to see him, tell him about this, and arrange to get him released.”

“There isn't any reason for you to see him, Kelly,” Sam argued. “The police will eventually release him. MacSwayne can handle it. You don't need to be there.”

“Yes, I do.” Without another word, she walked off.

“He isn't going to thank you, Kelly,” Sam called after her, angered that she couldn't see that, that she had to go through the pain of finding out herself.