Page 7 of Ravaged With You

“Just hurry. Tell him I asked you to bring him. He’ll come.”

“After the way you saved his wife in New York, he’d buy you the Brooklyn Bridge if you asked. Of course we’ll come.”

“See you soon—”

“Wait.” There was an edge to Renly’s voice. Hard, but softened by compassion. “Are you holding up?”

Red hadn’t told his brother what had happened in Romania all those years ago, but being Renly, he knew that something had gone down.

“I’m still standing,” he said. “Just get here. I need to talk to both of you.”

He’d walked while he was talking, and now he was standing in the outdoor area. He could see the interior of the empty tasting room through the wide windows, then realized that he should have locked the damn door. Anyone could have walked in and cleaned them out, even torched the place. He would have lost not only his partner, but his distillery as well. And now it was Jo’s distillery, too.

Jo.

Her name filled his head, along with an image of her sweet smile. She still didn’t know, and he couldn’t keep putting it off.

He dialed her number, dreading the conversation, only to have the call go straight to voicemail. “Jo, it’s Red. Give me a call. It’s important.” He sounded so professional. So in control. But what he felt was numb. Thank God for his training…

Since it was Monday, he tried her at work, too, only to be told that she’d taken the day off. “Dammit, Jo. Where are you?”

He tried once more, this time sending only a text. The whoosh sound of the send notification still lingered when the front door of the tasting room opened and the authorities stepped in. A medical examiner, a uniformed cop, and a woman he assumed was a plain-clothes detective.

Red drew in one more lungful of fresh air, then entered from the garden to greet them, even though all he really wanted was for them to go away. He wanted time to mourn his friend. Time he didn’t have, not when he’d been tasked with finding a mysterious missing package. And certainly not when the caller had specifically said that any punishment for failure would be meted out on Jo.

He just had to hold it together until they left. Then he could track Jo down and find out if she knew anything about the MacGuffin.

He could do that. He drew in a breath, released it slowly, then marched into the tasting room to meet them.

“Thank you for getting here so fast,” he said to the woman who was flashing her badge.

“Detective Amaro. We’re sorry for your loss. You told the 911 operator your partner committed suicide?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He indicated the door to the distillery. “I can take you back.”

She followed with her crew, saying nothing, but with her sharp eyes taking it all in. He showed her the CO2 scrubbers that had been turned off, the vents that had been closed. He pointed out how the alarm system had been bypassed.

He explained the purpose of the mash tubs and how the fermentation process worked. He showed her the tub in which he’d found Mel’s body and explained that he’d left it as he’d found it to aid the investigation.

“And a note?”

He drew a breath, then pointed to the scrawled message written with a Sharpie on the side of the tub.

“Just ‘sorry’?” Detective Amaro cocked her head.

He swallowed. “That was it.”

“And his behavior recently?”

“He’d been more distant than usual. Closed off. Quiet.”

“You weren’t concerned?”

“A bit, but when I asked, he just said he had a lot on his mind. He’d been negotiating a hotel contract for us. I think he was putting too much pressure on himself. I should have realized. I should have done something.”

The emotion in his voice was real, even if it was murder and not suicide that was causing the thickness in his throat.

“I see,” she said, and he wondered if she truly did, especially as she started to walk the area, peering under the tubs, then checking the alarm panel and the lock on the fermentation room door. Red kept his expression bland. The face of a man who simply wanted to put the procedures behind him so that he could mourn his friend.