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Jacob Channing was just locking up the tasting room of Channing Vineyards, which was part of a compound of Italianate buildings with wide eaves and cornices supporting flat tile roofs and spread around a central parking area composed of pavers.
She parked next to his sleek BMW. He looked up and smiled, still a hint of a boyish dimple showing in a square jaw that sported three days’ growth of beard. In a tight T-shirt and shorts, he was tall and lean, with deep-set eyes and blond hair that appeared a little unkempt. He had that whole casual, I-look-good-and-don’t-have-to-work-at-it vibe going. “I know you,” he said. “Nikki Gillette, right?”
“Right.”
“And let me guess, you’re here because they found the bodies of the Duval girls next door.”
“Basically.”
“I figured.” He unlocked the door of the tasting room. “Come on in.” Checking his watch, he added, “You’ve got twenty minutes. Then I have an appointment with my trainer.”
Inside, he walked behind a dark wood bar and found a bottle, two glasses and, without asking, poured. “Sit,” he said, pointing to a stool and handing her a glass. Then he pressed a button and classical music began to drift from speakers hidden high overhead. “You may as well have the full experience.”
“You drink before working out?”
“I taste before working out sometimes.” He held out a glass and she took it, sipping the cool white as she slid onto the proffered stool while Jacob remained behind the bar, polished wood separating them. The room had high ceilings, open beams and French doors that opened to terraced grounds, umbrella tables and views of the rows of vines stretching across the slight hill.
Jacob took a swallow, then said, “Look, I don’t know what happened to those girls, have no idea. I was surprised as anyone that their bodies were found at the Beaumonts’—actually, I was blown away that they were there and dead. I kinda had this idea that they’d show up sometime, y’know, not that I thought about it all that often. I didn’t even know them. They were a lot younger than me.”
“Their mother worked over at the Beaumont house. As a nurse.”
“A nurse? Oh. For the old lady?”
“Yes, Beulah.”
Jacob screwed up his face. “Did she? I don’t remember. But then that was probably after I was persona non grata over there. Connie-Sue, she made the edict.” His expression darkened. “Blamed me for what happened to Nell.”
Here we go, Nikki thought. “Because you were there the day she drowned.”
“Yeah, we were all just screwing around in the water and it just happened. She got in over her head, couldn’t swim and Tyson saw her, but it was too late.”
“So why did Connie-Sue blame you?”
“She had to blame someone, didn’t she? Couldn’t be her son’s fault, or God forbid, hers for not keeping an eye on the kid.” He finished his glass in one swallow. “Anyway, the upshot was that I was banned from the property. And eventually they moved and let the damned house fall into ruin.” He shook his head. “Who does that?”
“No one else was ever there?”
“After they moved out?” He shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. As I said, I was ordered off the grounds and I stayed away.” He eyed her and poured himself another half glass. “And if you want to know if I saw anyone carrying any dead bodies up there, the answer is no. And I sure as hell didn’t hear anyone screaming or anything. There’s acres separating these places, so I guess I can’t help you.” He took another swallow and glanced at his watch.
She didn’t take the hint. “And you knew Bronco Cravens?” “Yeah, he lives just—lived just across the river.” He studied the contents of his glass as he twirled the stem in his fingers. “Shame about him. He wasn’t really a bad guy, you know.”
“And what about Owen Duval?” she asked, assuming he’d not heard about Owen’s death. Nikki decided in this case, and to keep her husband from going ballistic, that discretion was the better part of valor. Jacob Channing wouldn’t hear about the alleged suicide from her.
“Owen?” Jacob repeated. “What can I say? Weird dude.”
“You think he killed his sisters?”
“What? Hell, no.” Jacob shook his head, his pale hair shivering.
“He wasn’t weird that way, wasn’t perverted or anything, at least not that I ever saw, just out of step. Different.”
“So did you and Tyson stay friends after his sister died?”
“Kinda. It was never the same, though, but yeah, we hung out sometimes.”
“You both dated Ashley McDonnell.”
Involuntarily, his jaw tightened. “In high school? Yeah. What does that have to do with anything?”
