"Bo, tell us how you really feel." Fair tried to lighten the moment.
Bo's sense of humor rarely failed him, even when angry. He stopped. "You're right. You're right." He took a deep breath. "Why'd you do it?"
"I told you, Bo, Rollie sent me downtown to Toby's sister yesterday. And she's a damned mess."
"Over Toby?" Fair's curiosity grew with each exchange.
"Hell, no. She hated his guts. He was the one who told her she was manic-depressive and needed heavy-duty tranqs."
"She is. All the Pittmans are crazy," Fair agreed.
"True, the whole goddamned family is nuts. They've been nuts since before the Revolutionary War. If any family ever made a case for free abortion on demand, it's the Pittmans." Bo added his two cents.
"I don't suppose either of you would like to tell me why you're cussing?"
"He's cussing. I'm not," Arch answered Fair.
Of course, he'd used the word "damned," but that must have slipped his mind.
"Arch went down to Tabitha—what's her married name now? She's married to some crackhead."
"Martin. Don't know that he's a crack-head, but he's as cracked as she is."
"Maybe they're in treatment together," Fair said, again joking.
"Guess what? It's not working." Arch showed a flash of humor. "All right. Here's what went down. Rollie waited about ten minutes. He said under the circumstances that was all that was necessary. I then offered to buy Toby's farm from Tabitha once the estate was settled."
"And?" Fair raised an eyebrow.
"She said it would take a year to settle it all."
"By which time the grapes will be ruined. Someone has to tend to them and harvest them. All that work." Bo's cheeks flushed.
"That's what I told her. So anyway, after a long, drawn-out process during which I heard everything she loathed about her brother, I offered to rent the farm. When the estate is settled Spring Hill will buy it."
"Did she sign a contract?" Bo, keen to the letter of the law, leaned forward.
"She did. Look, Bo, I know you've got this Belgian couple looking for suitable land for a vineyard, and Toby's place is perfect. The vines are established; the land drains quickly. He's got equipment. It's perfect. Rollie might have been insensitive in timing, but you know if we hadn't grabbed it, you or someone else would have." He stopped a minute. "Truth is, Bo, we beat you to it."
Bo grimaced slightly but didn't reply.
"Competition is the lifeblood of trade." Arch smiled slowly.
Fair agreed, then remarked, "Arch, what do you think about Toby's murder?"
"I'm not surprised." Arch folded his arms across his chest. "Toby pushed Hy and I guess Hy snapped."
"Do you look heavenward and say, Toby's at peace now'?"
"Not me," Arch said.
"Guess you're right," Bo said.
The three went inside and slipped into a booth. Bo had a double order of waffles with local honey poured over them; Arch ate eggs and bacon, as did Fair. A moment of contented silence followed, as it so oftendoes. The world becomes charming on a full stomach.
Finally Bo asked Fair, "Anyone hear anything about Hy?"
"No, and Fiona isn't talking to anyone but her lawyer. She engaged McGuire Woods."
"That was smart." Arch put down his heavy white coffee cup.
McGuire Woods, a large, prestigious firm, had depth in every manner of law in which one could become entangled.
"Smart. See, that's where I keep running into a wall." Bo leaned back. "Hy is damned smart. Why would he be so incredibly stupid?"
"Maybe there was more to it than we know. I mean to Hy and Toby's bad blood," Fair offered.
Bo shook his head. "Still, Hy acted like an idiot. It just doesn't compute."
"Guess we didn't know Hy." Fair lifted his cup for more coffee, which the waitress supplied.
"Does anybody know anybody? Really?" Bo enjoyed philosophical discussions.
"Do you know yourself?" Fair smiled. "My way of looking at the world is: deeds,not words. I watch what people do and I don't listen so much to what they say."
"Good program," Arch agreed.
Bo turned to Fair, and directly asked, "What the hellwere you doing at Toby's?"
"He called all upset and told me I had to rush right over because Jed cut his hind leg. When I got there I couldn't find Jed. What I found was Toby."
"Where's Jed? Did they find him?" Arch asked.
"Don't you watch the morning news?" Bo inquired.
"I'm out in the fields by six," Arch replied.
"Seven o'clock news reported Jed was found yesterday at the old Berryhill farm. All's well with Jed, I guess." Bo shrugged.
"What about his leg?" Arch asked Fair.
"Not a scratch."
"Huh?" Bo dropped his arms.
Arch stared down at the table for a second. "Poor guy. Toby was really losing it."
"What? Toby was hallucinating?" Bo sharply asked.
"Who knows? But strange as he could be, Toby in his right mind wouldn't see a wound that wasn't there." Arch's voice rose. "It is weird. It's like Forland's disappearance pulled a loose thread and the whole cloth unraveled."
"The Pittmans are peculiar, as we've noted," Fair added.
"For Christ's sake, every family in Virginia is peculiar. You all have been nursing your peculiarities since 1607." Bo poked a finger at both Virginia men but in good humor.
"Hey, you weren't born a Virginian, but you got here as soon as you could," Fair poked back.
"I deserve that." Bo smiled. "Well, I don't know about you two, but I have to earn a living."
As Arch paid the bill to mollify Bo—he paid Fair's, too, which was gracious—Bo begged Fair to call him if anything suitable became available for the Belgian couple.
As the three men drove their separate ways, Rick, Coop, and an entire team combed Toby's house. The department computer whiz hunched over the new computer Toby bought in the winter. Toby had bragged about its ASUS motherboard.
So far, every single thing that turned up in the computer, on his desk, and on his bookshelves related to grapes, agriculture. He had everything Professor Forland had published plus unpublished materials, works in progress. One had to be proficient in organic chemistry to read the late professor's work. Toby was. The computer whiz was not.
Toby Pittman's entire narrow existence— like that of his mentor, who had a somewhat wider sweep—was dedicated to the grape, to making wine.
In vino veritas.
23
Hy Maudant was back at White Vineyards by Wednesday. Bail had been set at one million dollars. When Hy's attorney paid it without comment, all of Crozet—indeed, all of Albemarle County—gasped at how rich he must be.
Hy strolled out of jail an almost free man. Paying the bail was his way of giving everyone the finger. Since he did not discuss his net worth, this cool forking over of the money made him appearreally rich, powerful, and confident.
That's what he wanted people to think.
He no sooner arrived home than within twenty-four hours another crisis struck: a very late springtime frost.
Usually frost disappears by mid-April, not to return until mid-October. In recent memory, a frost blanketed central Virginia once as late as May 22. But on the other side of the dreaded—courtesy of the IRS—April 15, farmers and vintners usually breathed a sigh of relief.
This May 11, man and beast awoke to silvery meadows.
Hy immediately called in ten huge helicopters to hover over the vineyards at 120 feet. The ground temperature was twenty-eight degrees Fahrenheit. He ordered the machines an hour before daybreak. Had the frost been predicted, he would have called them the night before.
Jack Frost snuck up on everyone, especially the weatherman.
The helicopters, each at the cost of five hundred dollars per hour, pushed warmer air down to the ground. Four hours later, with the help of the choppers and the sunshine that bathed the hills and valleys, the mercury rose to forty degrees.
Hy saved his grapes. Whether or not he could save himself remained to be seen.