expression. If she didn’t know better, she would guess he was bored.
“One thing puzzles me,” said Remy. “I don’t understand why you would choose to make any of this your business. Why do you care? Suppose you’re right and the wine isn’t what it’s supposed to be. What is the harm of a few gullible rich people drinking the wrong grape juice? They don’t really care what it tastes like anyway, trust me. The thrill is in the expense. They want to pay excessive amounts of money. It’s part of the high. It makes them feel powerful and privileged. In fact, you may be onto something. Repackaging wine might not be such a bad idea. That way, the rich customers get what they want, the repackager gets what he wants, and someone else, perhaps someone who actually understands what he is drinking and can appreciate it properly,gets to buy the real Reservée, of which, as you know, there is an extremely limited supply. I’m starting to like this idea of yours.”
She smoothed her bangs to the side with her fingers. Was it getting even hotter? She had the urge to pant, like when she was sick to her stomach. The tea. Did he put something in the tea, or was it just too hot in this room?
“Let me be very clear about this,” she said, struggling to keep her voice steady. “I’m going to need some kind of cooperation from you, or else I’m going to have to go to the police with what I know right now. Why I care is irrelevant to you. I have my reasons. But I know something and I can’t not know it.”
“What interests could you possibly have in anything that goes on at Vinifera? It has nothing to do with you,” he said.
“I think you’re missing my point,” said Sunny, losing her patience. “It’s not important that
you
know or understand
my
motives. Someone is dead, someone is committing wine fraud, and unless I get your help, I’m going to the police with my theories, right or wrong.”
Remy put his head down and rubbed his temples. After a long pause, he looked up at her. “There is no reason to discuss any of this. It’s in the past. It’s over. The guilty party is beyond punishment, and the victims never knew what happened and were only harmed in ways they could afford. Nathan came up with the idea a couple of years ago. I was never involved.”
“You mean you didn’t participate.” Sunny tried not to seem too relieved that he had finally cracked.
“No.”
“But you didn’t stop him.”
“He signs my paycheck.”
Sunny nodded. “Nathan owned two businesses, both of them successful. You’re telling me he risked it all for penny-ante wine fraud? And if that’s the truth, why would he involve you in it?”
“Nathan wasn’t as financially secure as some people would like to believe,” said Remy. “A few thousand on the side every now and then could make a big difference. I have to admire the scheme. You fake a few of the very expensive wines that get sold to an audience that self-selects for people guaranteed to have a great deal of money and no idea what they are buying. Nobody gets hurt and he puts a nice chunk of cash in his pocket.” He paused. “That’s the only good thing about his death. Now he’ll never get caught.”
Sunny watched his eyes, searching for signs of whether or not he was lying. She didn’t like him or want to believe him, but he seemed to be telling the truth. “He won’t get caught, but you might. What if somebody who knows what to look for gets hold of those bottles? Dealing in phony merchandise is a crime.”
“I didn’t do anything. I don’t even know that anything has been done. Frankly, I’m not even sure Nathan ever acted on his idea, I just know he talked about it. I simply chose to look the other way. The forgery you are talking about, if that’s what it is, has not been sold, and won’t be until I check it out. This is much ado about nothing.”
“I wonder if the police will buy that,” said Sunny.
Remy walked over to the fireplace to
“One thing puzzles me,” said Remy. “I don’t understand why you would choose to make any of this your business. Why do you care? Suppose you’re right and the wine isn’t what it’s supposed to be. What is the harm of a few gullible rich people drinking the wrong grape juice? They don’t really care what it tastes like anyway, trust me. The thrill is in the expense. They want to pay excessive amounts of money. It’s part of the high. It makes them feel powerful and privileged. In fact, you may be onto something. Repackaging wine might not be such a bad idea. That way, the rich customers get what they want, the repackager gets what he wants, and someone else, perhaps someone who actually understands what he is drinking and can appreciate it properly,gets to buy the real Reservée, of which, as you know, there is an extremely limited supply. I’m starting to like this idea of yours.”
She smoothed her bangs to the side with her fingers. Was it getting even hotter? She had the urge to pant, like when she was sick to her stomach. The tea. Did he put something in the tea, or was it just too hot in this room?
“Let me be very clear about this,” she said, struggling to keep her voice steady. “I’m going to need some kind of cooperation from you, or else I’m going to have to go to the police with what I know right now. Why I care is irrelevant to you. I have my reasons. But I know something and I can’t not know it.”
“What interests could you possibly have in anything that goes on at Vinifera? It has nothing to do with you,” he said.
“I think you’re missing my point,” said Sunny, losing her patience. “It’s not important that
you
know or understand
my
motives. Someone is dead, someone is committing wine fraud, and unless I get your help, I’m going to the police with my theories, right or wrong.”
Remy put his head down and rubbed his temples. After a long pause, he looked up at her. “There is no reason to discuss any of this. It’s in the past. It’s over. The guilty party is beyond punishment, and the victims never knew what happened and were only harmed in ways they could afford. Nathan came up with the idea a couple of years ago. I was never involved.”
“You mean you didn’t participate.” Sunny tried not to seem too relieved that he had finally cracked.
“No.”
“But you didn’t stop him.”
“He signs my paycheck.”
Sunny nodded. “Nathan owned two businesses, both of them successful. You’re telling me he risked it all for penny-ante wine fraud? And if that’s the truth, why would he involve you in it?”
“Nathan wasn’t as financially secure as some people would like to believe,” said Remy. “A few thousand on the side every now and then could make a big difference. I have to admire the scheme. You fake a few of the very expensive wines that get sold to an audience that self-selects for people guaranteed to have a great deal of money and no idea what they are buying. Nobody gets hurt and he puts a nice chunk of cash in his pocket.” He paused. “That’s the only good thing about his death. Now he’ll never get caught.”
Sunny watched his eyes, searching for signs of whether or not he was lying. She didn’t like him or want to believe him, but he seemed to be telling the truth. “He won’t get caught, but you might. What if somebody who knows what to look for gets hold of those bottles? Dealing in phony merchandise is a crime.”
“I didn’t do anything. I don’t even know that anything has been done. Frankly, I’m not even sure Nathan ever acted on his idea, I just know he talked about it. I simply chose to look the other way. The forgery you are talking about, if that’s what it is, has not been sold, and won’t be until I check it out. This is much ado about nothing.”
“I wonder if the police will buy that,” said Sunny.
Remy walked over to the fireplace to
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