Alicia entered without knocking, greeted the sheriff and deputy as she walked over to Fiona. She leaned down to embrace her friend, and that's when Fiona gave way.
As Fiona's sobs shortened, Rick briefed Alicia on the disposition of the body.
"I'll take care of the details." Alicia held Fiona's hand.
"Fiona, please forgive me for pressing you at this time, but it's crucial. We must go through Hy's papers and computer."
"Must it be now?" Alicia spoke for her friend.
"Yes. Alicia, if this isn't suicide, others may be in danger," Rick stated.
Fiona nodded that it was all right.
Alicia asked, "Is she in danger?"
"I don't care if I am," Fiona flared. "Let them come and get me. I don't want to live without Hy. I don't care!"
Coop calmly reminded her, "You have to live long enough to clear his name."
Fiona blinked, nodded, and said, "You're right."
34
Hy Maudant's funeral, a desultory affair, was attended by twenty-five people that Friday. St. Luke's seemed cavernous with so few mourners in the pews, but the Reverend Jones rose to the occasion. He didn't want to praise a murderer, but he didn't wish to condemn him, either. While Herb didn't know conclusively if Hy had killed Toby, he felt the evidence against him to be overwhelming. However, the Christian God is a merciful God, and Herb wanted to console Fiona and leave some shred of dignity with the departed.
Whenever confronted with a knotty problem, Herb turned to the Psalms. He read from Psalm Twenty-five:" Turn thou to me, and be gracious to me; for I am lonely and afflicted. Relieve the troubles of myheart, and bring me out of my distresses. Consider my affliction and my trouble, and forgive all my sins.'"
As the service ended, Hy's casket was carried by four men from Hill and Wood Funeral Parlor, along with Fair Haristeen and Jim Sanburne.
Fiona, supported by Alicia and Boom-Boom, followed her husband's casket to the shining black hearse. Aware that eyes were upon her, she held her head up.
Eight people attended the burial apart from the pallbearers: Harry, BoomBoom, Alicia, Susan, Miranda, Tracy, Little Mim, and Aunt Tally.
As they repaired to Fiona's house for the traditional gathering, Aunt Tally waited for Harry to walk next to her.
"Aunt Tally." Harry slipped her arm through the old lady's free arm as Tally used her cane with the other one.
"We could have done better," the nonagenarian muttered under her breath.
"Beg pardon?" Harry inclined her ear toward Aunt Tally.
"Crozet should have done better by Fiona. Whatever Hy did is buried with him. No need to punish his widow."
"You're right." Harry shortened her steps.
"I have a terrible feeling, Aunt Tally."
"We all do, dear."
"It's not just about Hy's death. It's about all of this. Usually I can piece things together. Even if I don't put all the puzzle together, I'm close and I eventually figure it all out. But I'm blind this time."
"Malaise." Aunt Tally nodded. "I think we all feel that, Harry. It's not just the shock of this death or the visceral impact of the others, it's that we can't see why." She stopped, withdrawing her arm from Harry's to put both hands on the silver hound's head of her ebony cane. "Mark me, Harry, I am near one hundred and I tell you with the fullness of my years: there is nothing new under the sun. There are new technologies, but there is nothing new in the nature of the human animal."
"I believe that," Harry interjected while Aunt Tally took a deep breath.
"You do have a puzzling mind—I mean, you can often figure things out because you aren't hampered by seeing things as you wish to see them. That's a great gift. Your grandfather certainly had it, which is one of he reasons I fell in love with him. Your mother possessed it, too, and people with this gift can often run afoul of those who wish to view the world through rose-colored glasses. Use your sharp mind to ask, 'Why do people kill?'"
"Love, money, power."
"Exactly. To that I add revenge and to protect one's self."
As they started walking toward the gracious house, Harry whispered as if to herself, "The vineyards. How do the vineyards tie in to love or revenge?"
Aunt Tally, ears good even if her joints weren't, replied, "Money. There's a great deal of money once one is established."
"Enough to kill for?" Harry lifted her shoulders.
"People kill one another in cities for an expensive pair of sneakers, for drugs, for the damnedest, most inconsequential things."
"True," Harry softly answered.
"One of the great virtues of becoming ancient is I have ample time to cogitate and to continue my study of human nature. They call economics the dismal science. I think not. It's the study of human nature. Thousands of years of recorded history and we've learned nothing. Dismal."
That, too, applied to the small gathering at White Vineyards. One by one the people left, until only Fiona, Alicia, and BoomBoorn remained to look over the rolling hills festooned with vines climbing on the wires. In other circumstances this would presage hope. Today it represented loss.
Harry drove her old F-150 back to the farm; since Fair needed to visit his patients, he had attended the funeral driving his own truck. He called the horses his patients. He had a good bedside manner.
Harry resolved to keep tabs on Fiona, she would have, anyway. She also wanted to find out who was calling with checkbook in hand, how long it would take people to show up at the door. Could someone be trying to create a monopoly of local vineyards? But to kill for it—well, that upset her. Just thinking about it made her mad, gave her energy. And she kept thinking, "Could anyone be that greedy? That stupid?"
And she determined to visit local vineyards.
That was a mistake.
35
"Costs twenty-five dollars a plant. That's a hell of a lot better than one thousand five hundred dollars a plant." Dinny Ostermann pushed back his sweat-stained ball cap as he explained a new technique for identifying six common virus infections. "The worm is turning."
"How do you mean?" Harry had dropped by Dinny's small vineyard in Crozet.
Dinny bottled no wine. He picked his grapes and sent them on to whoever gave him the best price each year. As he grew an outstanding Cabernet Sauvignon, the Bordeaux variety of red grape, he enjoyed visits from various vintners' representatives during harvest time.
Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker nosed around. Dinny loved animals, so he laughedas Mrs. Murphy leapt straight up to try and snatch a yellow swallowtail from midair. The gorgeous insect fluttered away, her compound eyes seeing the tiniest movement.
"From Canada to Chile, people are waking up to the profit from wine. Wine consumption will finally overtake beer in our country." He hooked his thumbs in his muddy jeans.
"You really believe that wine will overtake beer?"
"More health benefits, and who gets a wine gut?" He laughed.
"Thought you might come to Hy's funeral."
"No. Hy and I didn't much get on."
"You think he killed Toby?"
"Yeah. They hated each other."
"I've been swinging by as many vineyards as I can in Albemarle and Nelson Counties. Trying to find out if anyone has seen the sharpshooters. So far no one has. What about you?"
He shook his head. "No. Heard you found them on strips in your peach orchard, but you haven't seen any on your grape leaves, have you?"
"No. But I've been thinking that it's kind of cool, rain off and on, and pretty good breeze, too. Maybe they'll show up when it's calm and warmer."
"Let's hope not." Dinny's black hair curled out from under his cap. "Damned queer, though."
"I'm furious that someone used my peach orchard for their experiment."
"I would be, too." He removed his cap, holding it over his eyes as he looked toward the sun. "Should dry out by tomorrow." He laughed. "Boots get heavy with all that mud caked in the treads."