Hidden in the Blood: A Novel of the Terribly Acronymed Detective Club (Book 5)

Chapter Fifty-Nine: Al, Saturday

The taxi driver must have been used to getting requests to take passengers to wineries, because he was able to take them to Whistle Pig Vineyards with no difficulty even if it was a small one by industry standards. Al smiled at the playfulness of the name. He wasn't sure whistle pigs, or woodchucks or groundhogs, were located in the Okanagan, but lots of wineries had animals in their names, and he liked that Richard Junior probably didn't take himself too seriously; if he was anything like Daphne and Marie, he'd like him.

He sat in the front of the taxi with the driver, while Rachel, Emma and Agnes sat in the back. Aside from his wedding day, he'd never dressed up like this, nor had he ever seen Rachel so glamorous. She was breathtaking, and this alone was worth the trip up, the worry about Samson recovering back at home without him there, and the wondering how the rest of his friends were doing in the aftermath of last night. Not only that, Agnes was classically elegant in her black dress; it wasn't as tiny as Lauren's last night, this wasn't that kind of party, but it still showed more of her than she ever showed when they were dating, and it stirred old feelings again, which wasn't good when she was in the same taxi as his wife. Even Emma, in the blue tunic dress she wore at her adoption ceremony, was dressed more formally than she usually was, and her baby blonde hair was pinned back in barrettes. He hoped she'd enjoy herself, as he didn't think there'd be many kids her age there; maybe it would be a good idea if she went back early with Agnes, since she'd probably have more fun with Patrick and Melissa, and Al could concentrate fully on adoring his wife in public. Rachel deserved adoration after being so gracious about letting Agnes have the last ticket; it couldn't have been easy on her, offering his ex-girlfriend and her family a place to live, and now this.

It was still early enough in the evening that the event hadn't begun yet. Al had hoped to come earlier, but he wanted to wait until Agnes returned and they could all go together. He was still nervous about how Uncle Richard would react when he saw him, plus he was worried about Agnes' security when he saw how the RCMP had arrived to escort her and the kids around town. He hoped Daphne wouldn't be too disappointed at their later arrival than she expected.

The taxi pulled off the highway into the wide gravel driveway that led to the winery, its entrance indicated by a large painted sign bearing a cartoonish pig with its lips pursed to whistle, the action only evident by the musical notes around its mouth. The name of the winery was below the pig.

"A literal interpretation of a colloquialism," Rachel said. Al saw her smiling in the rear view mirror. "Daring for an industry known for its self-importance."

"I think it's funny," Emma said.

"It is, isn't it," Al said.

The driveway ended in a roundabout overhung by a porte cochere attached to the main house, presumably where the family lived, but which also contained, on the main floor, the retail space for the customers who visited. It had a pretty facade of stone and mortar, very bucolic. Next to it was an enormous white canopy with tables underneath it, dotted here and there with propane burners to keep the guests warm against the January air, especially if they were wearing what Rachel and Agnes were wearing. This would be where the event was happening. Behind all of this, barely visible in the evening light and the light of the propane torches, lay rolling hills planted with row after row of grape vines, the rows themselves dusted with a recent snowfall. The vines, he could barely see, looked empty; the grapes must have just been harvested for the most recent pressing of ice wine. It was certainly cold enough, and must have been cold for long enough to do it.

The taxi stopped under the porte cochere, and Al paid the driver while the others climbed out. The front door opened almost as soon as the taxi pulled away, and there was Daphne and her wife Tatiana, both dressed to the nines.