the kid isn’t pissed about the winery, but about Daddy shutting down the money-maker that was paying for the kid’s over-the-top lifestyle.”
“Does he have an over -the-top lifestyle?” Juliet asked.
Esteban hadn’t found out much about the son yet.
“There are drugs around back in college and some gambling.” That sounded a little weak, but Juliet didn’t dismiss it.
“Well, as it happens I am on my way to see Edward now. I’ll be watchful.”
Talbert blinked.
“I think that the woman from Trefoil may be with him. She’s kind of a mother bear. About as dumb as a bear too.”
“Moira Mulligan? That’s good actually. I’d like to have a chat with her too.”
“And you think you can walk right in and they’ll just talk to you?” Talbert demanded. Obviously he hadn’t had any luck in that direction.
“Oh yes,” Juliet said confidently, rising to her feet. The sun was getting hot. “People generally like to talk to me. Little old ladies are harmless, you know.”
“So, you have some definite thoughts about this situation? You think it’s something personal.”
“Of course I have thoughts. But I don’t like discussing half-formed theories. It gives them credibility they may not deserve,” she answered. It was partially true. She didn’t mind discussing theories with Esteban and Raphael because they were not trying to channel her suspicions into any particular direction once she began seeing the outlines of the whys and wherefores. For the time being the shape wasn’t distinct enough for sharing. Especially not with the man who might still turn out to be the killer.
After all, Talbert was capable and he would definitely want his record intact. Killing Owens might have seemed like a small price to pay to achieve that goal.
Chapter 7
Juliet had no problem tracking down Edward Owens , who was indeed watching the workmen load cases of wine into the back of the enormous truck. This was a man at loose ends, frustrated and angry, though it wasn’t clear who or what was the target of his annoyance.
Was this Faust after selling his soul with an act of murder to gain what he desired? If so, it was a scrawny, pale kind of Faust.
Moira Mulligan was with him and she looked worried, her usually inexpressive face pinched and the hand on Edward’s arm grasped it too tightly. Juliet gave them a moment to notice her and speak, but when no one opened their mouth, she stepped inside.
“Hello,” Juliet said softly. “I hope that this isn’t a bad time. Or an especially bad time.”
Moira and Edward turned. They both looked blank. After a moment, Moira relaxed her grip on Edward’s arm and smoothed her face back into its usual peaceful expression which Juliet found a bit creepy.
“I’m Juliet Henry, one of the artists staying up at the cottages ,” she said for Edward’s benefit. “I would like to offer my condolences and assure you that if there is anything I can do to help at this time that you shouldn’t hesitate to tell me. And that includes asking Raphael and I to leave.” She hoped he wouldn’t do that and it was a calculated risk to suggest it, but it needed to be said to establish her bona fides as a sweet old lady.
Edward ’s pale face had also assumed polite lines. He stepped forward and offered his hand.
“Miss Henry. Please don’t think of leaving,” he said with automatic courtesy. “I believe that you partnered with my father in the grape stomp yesterday. I’m sorry that we had to cancel the rest of the festival and deny you a chance at the title.”
Edward Owens had lovely manners but lacked his father’s energy. His hair and manner were limp and exhausted, and his complexion unhealthy. Talbert might have been right about the drug use. Certainly Moira had looked concerned about him before she started channeling her higher power and looking like a plaster saint.
Addicts were often skilled liars and betrayers. Addicts could be bribed. Rich ones could be
“Does he have an over -the-top lifestyle?” Juliet asked.
Esteban hadn’t found out much about the son yet.
“There are drugs around back in college and some gambling.” That sounded a little weak, but Juliet didn’t dismiss it.
“Well, as it happens I am on my way to see Edward now. I’ll be watchful.”
Talbert blinked.
“I think that the woman from Trefoil may be with him. She’s kind of a mother bear. About as dumb as a bear too.”
“Moira Mulligan? That’s good actually. I’d like to have a chat with her too.”
“And you think you can walk right in and they’ll just talk to you?” Talbert demanded. Obviously he hadn’t had any luck in that direction.
“Oh yes,” Juliet said confidently, rising to her feet. The sun was getting hot. “People generally like to talk to me. Little old ladies are harmless, you know.”
“So, you have some definite thoughts about this situation? You think it’s something personal.”
“Of course I have thoughts. But I don’t like discussing half-formed theories. It gives them credibility they may not deserve,” she answered. It was partially true. She didn’t mind discussing theories with Esteban and Raphael because they were not trying to channel her suspicions into any particular direction once she began seeing the outlines of the whys and wherefores. For the time being the shape wasn’t distinct enough for sharing. Especially not with the man who might still turn out to be the killer.
After all, Talbert was capable and he would definitely want his record intact. Killing Owens might have seemed like a small price to pay to achieve that goal.
Chapter 7
Juliet had no problem tracking down Edward Owens , who was indeed watching the workmen load cases of wine into the back of the enormous truck. This was a man at loose ends, frustrated and angry, though it wasn’t clear who or what was the target of his annoyance.
Was this Faust after selling his soul with an act of murder to gain what he desired? If so, it was a scrawny, pale kind of Faust.
Moira Mulligan was with him and she looked worried, her usually inexpressive face pinched and the hand on Edward’s arm grasped it too tightly. Juliet gave them a moment to notice her and speak, but when no one opened their mouth, she stepped inside.
“Hello,” Juliet said softly. “I hope that this isn’t a bad time. Or an especially bad time.”
Moira and Edward turned. They both looked blank. After a moment, Moira relaxed her grip on Edward’s arm and smoothed her face back into its usual peaceful expression which Juliet found a bit creepy.
“I’m Juliet Henry, one of the artists staying up at the cottages ,” she said for Edward’s benefit. “I would like to offer my condolences and assure you that if there is anything I can do to help at this time that you shouldn’t hesitate to tell me. And that includes asking Raphael and I to leave.” She hoped he wouldn’t do that and it was a calculated risk to suggest it, but it needed to be said to establish her bona fides as a sweet old lady.
Edward ’s pale face had also assumed polite lines. He stepped forward and offered his hand.
“Miss Henry. Please don’t think of leaving,” he said with automatic courtesy. “I believe that you partnered with my father in the grape stomp yesterday. I’m sorry that we had to cancel the rest of the festival and deny you a chance at the title.”
Edward Owens had lovely manners but lacked his father’s energy. His hair and manner were limp and exhausted, and his complexion unhealthy. Talbert might have been right about the drug use. Certainly Moira had looked concerned about him before she started channeling her higher power and looking like a plaster saint.
Addicts were often skilled liars and betrayers. Addicts could be bribed. Rich ones could be
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