Walking home took longer because it was all uphill, but I made it back in time to take a quick shower and dress for dinner. Derek had a glass of wine waiting for me. “Thank you. This is nice.”
“I thought we could relax for a few minutes.” We sat on the comfortable couch in the Quinlans’ living room. Derek had placed a plate of crackers and a small triangle of softened Brie on the heavy wood coffee table. “Did you have a chance to examine the book?”
“Yes,” I said, “and I was hoping you’d look at it, too. I’m in need of your translation skills.”
“I assume the book is written in French.”
“It is,” I said, smiling. “But you don’t have to translate the book for me.”
“Good, because I’m fairly certain you can pick up an English version somewhere.”
I gave him a look as I swirled my wine and took a taste. “What I hope you’ll translate are the notes I found inside the book.”
“Notes?” he said, intrigued. “I’ll be happy to look them over first thing tomorrow. Do they explain everything that happened in the cave?”
I chuckled. “If only. No, the one in the book was written by two little boys long before the cave incident. And get this, they wrote it in blood.”
Derek laughed, knowing my squeamishness around blood. “You must’ve loved discovering that.”
“It’s not funny. It’s gross.”
“That’s because you were never a little boy.”
“Nice of you to notice.”
“I’ve definitely noticed.” He sat back and stretched his arm across my shoulders. “Boys like to do gross things. I thought you knew.”
“I do. The note made me think of Jackson and Austin as kids. They probably would’ve done something like that. Disgusting creatures.”
“Young boys are morbidly fascinated by blood. My brothers and I tried to stab or slice one another up at every opportunity.”
“Oh God. And your poor mother had to put up with five of you.”
“She loved every minute of it. We were angels.”
“I can’t wait to hear her version of the story.”
He shrugged. “She might use another term to describe us.”
“The word hooligans comes to mind,” I said, laughing.
He grinned. “I suppose that’s more accurate.”
I took another sip of wine. “This is awfully good.”
“It’s the five-year-old pinot noir we tasted today. I begged your brother for a bottle to bring home.”
I rested my head on his shoulder. “My hero.”
“It’s the least I could do, knowing you were hard at work the entire afternoon.”
I sat forward, spread some cheese on a cracker and handed it to him, and then made one for myself.
“Thanks, love.”
I finished my cracker and took a sip of wine. “Have you heard anything from the detectives?”
“Not yet. The crime scene lads showed up after you left. They dusted for prints and scoured through everything. We’ll have to wait and see what they turn up.”
“I don’t know what they can tell us. It’s not like they’ll arrest anyone, right? The man died seventy years ago. Nobody living here now was around back then.”
He swirled his wine distractedly. “So it would seem.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“I’m not.” He paused, weighing his words. “Don’t you find it odd that Robson’s grandfather knew the dead man?”
I frowned. “I suppose. But I was mostly concerned about Guru Bob because he looked so sad.”
“Yes, he did.” Derek nodded thoughtfully. “According to your father, Robson—Guru Bob—moved up here only about twenty-five years ago. That was when he bought all this property and started the Fellowship. But if the dead man’s passport and passenger ticket are to be believed, Jean Pierre Renaud has been lying dead in that cave for close to seventy years. So where does Guru Bob’s grandfather fit into those two scenarios? Was it just a coincidence?”
Knowing Derek as well as I did, I knew he didn’t believe in coincidences. “You don’t actually think that Guru Bob is lying, do you?”
“I believe he’s got more integrity than anyone I know, but in this case . . .” Derek shook his head. “Let’s allow it to play out a bit more before jumping to any conclusions.”
I thought about it for a minute. “My parents must’ve repeated that Guru Bob story at least a hundred times. He came up here, bought a tract of land, and then we all moved up. We lived in Airstream trailers for the first year, which was torturous, but Mom and Dad assured us that all our sacrifices would be worth it. And then we started growing grapes, and you know, the rest is history.”
Derek smiled. “Yes, practically legendary.”
“Maybe it’s the legend that’s wrong,” I said slowly. “Maybe Guru Bob never said anything either way, but everyone assumed that he bought the property right then and there. But what if he didn’t? What if the land was always in his family?”
Derek finished the last sip of wine and set his glass on the table. “You mentioned that you’d introduce me to Robson’s cousin Trudy. Can we do that tomorrow?”