Burgundy and Bodies (Wine Valley Mystery Book 1) by Sandra Woffington

Author:Sandra Woffington [Woffington, Sandra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Red Summit Publishers
Published: 2019-05-01T16:00:00+00:00

15

By the next morning, Max didn’t know what to say to Joy when they met at the station. He didn’t like change, and Joy could change everything.

Luckily, she sensed his apprehension and left him alone.

They stepped into his silver car, and Max drove away from Grape Gulch.

“Even though toxicology isn’t back,” said Max, keeping the conversation on the case, “we should stop by to visit Eugene and Cynthia and see how they react to finding out Shane is dead.”

“Good. I’d like to observe their natural habitat too. That might give me a clue to understanding their motivations.”

Since Max ignored her, Joy fidgeted and sighed and mumbled under her breath beside him.

He wasn’t dumb. He knew she wanted to talk, but he didn’t.

She waited and waited for him to speak.

Max didn’t even point out the sights, like when they passed by the equestrian park or the soccer fields. He kept his eyes on the road.

Finally, Joy blurted, “We have to talk about this, Max.”

“Nope,” he said. “We don’t. I changed my mind. I don’t want to know.”

“Alright, I respect that, but I do, so…” Joy reached down and pulled a box out of her backpack. “All I need from you is a sample, and I’ll leave you out of it.”

“A sample? What is that?”

“It’s a sibling DNA test kit. This will show if we’re brother and sister or complete strangers.”

“Forget it. You can try to unseal your adoption papers.”

“That will take months of legal wrangling with the state of California. And a judge could still refuse to unseal them. Both of our fathers are dead—it would have been helpful if they had signed off on it. I already looked into this. If I had some genetic disease—cancer, for example—a judge might say yes for medical reasons, but the ‘I just want to know who my real parents are’ angle doesn’t work. Max, all I need is a thimble full of spit, literally, and in three to five days, we’ll know. I’ll know.”

Max surveyed the hills on either side of him. He had a new appreciation for them—they remained the same. Immutable. Even if charred or burned, they would recover and be there, year after year, long after he left the Earth. The only changes in them amounted to seasonal color: now brown and gold with spots of olive, lush green by January after the winter rains, to vibrant splotches of purple and orange and yellow wildflowers in late February or early March.

Max turned off the main road and onto a branch that led to Eugene’s house.

“Just think about it,” said Joy. “That’s all I’m asking. If you don’t want to know, I won’t share the results. Max, look at me.”

Max pulled into the clearing and parked the car. He peered into her dark pleading eyes.

“I…I need to know.” Joy’s voice trembled. “You feel fixed, secure. I never have. I’ve never felt like I belonged. I didn’t have any friends growing up—except for Monty. And I didn’t just shave my head.” Joy peeled back the long sleeve of her white cotton shirt.

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