Page 39 of Que Será, Syrah

“You mean give you a chance to lie some more? No. Thank you. I’ve already bagged my quota on liars for this season. Actually, I think I’ve exceeded it. So, if you don’t mind?—”

“I’m not lying,” I insist, although—technically, I suppose I am. A bit.

“Oh, really? So then explain this: Miles Henderson is a deputy, too, is he not? Right here in Napa? You do know him, don’t you?”

I nod. “Yes, of course I do.”

“Of course, you do,” she mimics. “Great. So, then you probably also know that he got married today—yes?”

“I was there. I was one of his groomsmen, in fact.”

“Okay, well good. So, then you know who else was there, don’t you? My sisters! So, if there are all these rules, and regulations, and conflict of interest clauses, and you’re all so untouchable, or sacrosanct, or whatever word you want to use, then how come he can socialize with them, but you can’t go on a second date with me?”

“Because it’s an entirely different situation, that’s why.”

“How so?”

“Well…there are several reasons,” I tell her. “For one thing, as far as I can tell, he’s known your family for years, right?”

“Maybe. Sort of.”

“For another, why do you think he transferred out of Oak Creek Canyon in the first place? It was for this very reason, so that he wouldn’t get stuck investigating his friends, or having to recuse himself, or whatever. Also, if I understand the situation, your sisters are Millie’s friends, primarily. Miles just gets them by association.”

“Close,” she says, crossing her arms and glaring at me—much as her cousins had been doing. “Bianca and Millie are friends. And Miles has been hanging out with Jansen, so I guess they’re friends, too. But Millie only gets Rosa by association and Jake by…I don’t even know. What’s another step out from that? Default?”

“I have no idea,” I admit. “But you see my point? There are degrees of connectedness, and?—”

“And my connection to your investigation is very slight—we’re barely acquainted. Ships passing in the night.”

“I’m investigating a series of potential crimes that have been happening at your winery—remember that part? You were very clear about being one third of Caparelli. Which means you’re up to your ears in connectedness. Your ship ain’t passing anything. It’s docked and anchored.”

“Bullshit.” She leans her shoulder against her car, as though she’s settling in to fight. “I was in Europe the whole time this nonsense was going on. In fact, I haven’t been back home in about five years. So, whatever’s been going on here—and I’d bet every last penny in my bank account it’s nothing worth investigating, I haven’t been part of it.

“Plus,” she says, lifting a finger to keep me still when she senses that I’m about to interrupt and point out that she would still be responsible, still be involved, still be off-limits. “No, listen. You wanna know the truth? Technically, it’s not even mine yet. I mean, yes, it was left to me, and ultimately it will be mine, but there’s a shit-ton of paperwork I need to sign first. And I haven’t gotten around to doing that yet, so…at this point, minimal connection. Association level connection—if that.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I say wearily.

“No, of course it doesn’t. Because you’re not interested. Which I get. So, why don’t you move out of the way and let me get into my car now so I can go home?”

“You’re wrong about that,” I tell her. “And I can prove it.”

“Really? What? What can you prove?”

“I can prove that if things were different, I would definitely want to go out with you.”

“Oh, you cannot. That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s not and I can.”

“All right, go ahead then. This should be good.”

“The thing is, I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

“Noooo?” she mutters, blinking quickly as she glances away. “I can’t believe it. What a shocker.”

“The thing is, that traffic stop was not the first time we met.”

She looks at me blankly for a moment—clearly this was not what she’d been expecting me to say. Then her scowl returns. “Oh, nice try Romero,” she says rolling the second R dramatically. So that, even though she’s not saying Romeo, we both know that’s what she means. And not as a compliment. “But that’s ancient history, so you can fuck right off.”

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