Sour Grapes

beside the fountain, surrounded by a huddle of excited, frightened women. Savannah recognized the tiny lady with lavender-blue tinted hair and a stack of notebooks under her arm as Gertrude, Mrs. Lippincott’s assistant. Savannah had met her only briefly before all the trouble with Barbie Matthews had begun and had decided that Gertrude was motivated primarily by fear of her boss.
    Considering the fierce expression on Marion Lippincott’s face, Savannah could hardly blame Gertrude. On ‘The Lip’s” bad side was not a place anyone would want to be.
    Savannah hoped to sneak through the courtyard unnoticed. But no such luck.
    “Ms. Reid, we need a moment of your time. Now,” Mrs. Lippincott called out, projecting like a mezzo-soprano singing to the last row.
    Reluctantly, Savannah obeyed, steeling herself for a battle that she really did not want to fight in her depleted condition. “ These ladies are our volunteer hostesses,” Mrs. Lippincott said with an expansive wave of her hand, introducing the lot. “We’re discussing the best way to break this unfortunate news to the girls. With your vast experience, I was hoping you might give us some suggestions.”
    Savannah could hear the snide undertone; it was hard to miss. Obviously, Marion considered her partly, if not completely, responsible for the tragedy.
    Savannah could feel the other women’s eyes on her. She could sense their fear and genuine concern. Some of these ladies were the contestants’ mothers. And with everyone on edge, this wasn’t the time to duke it out with Marion Lippincott, verbally or otherwise.
    “I’m sorry, but psychology is a bit outside my field of expertise,” she said as kindly as she could. “My only suggestion would be that you contact County Mental Health Services and ask their advice. Perhaps they could send professional grief counselors.”
    To her surprise, Savannah’s words seemed to satisfy Mrs. Lippincott, and some of the hostility was absent from her voice when she replied, Thank you. That’s an excellent idea. Gertrude, get on that right now.”
    As Gertrude hurried away, Savannah thought it might be a good time to attempt an escape.
    “If you’ll excuse me now, we’re really busy.”
    “Yes, of course,” Mrs. Lippincott said. “But when you get some time I’d like to speak to you privately.”
    “Can you tell me where the girls are now?”
    “Anthony Villa has taken them on a tour of the vineyards, the fermentation room, and the aging room. They left over an hour ago, so they should be returning anytime.”
    “Was Francie Gorton with them and my sister Atlanta ?“
    Mrs. Lippincott studied Savannah intently for a moment over her tortoiseshell frames before replying. “Yes, they were both with the tour group. They were instructed to go to their rooms the moment they returned. Lunch will be served beside the pool at noon sharp. I hope you can join us.”
    An invitation to lunch... now that was a pleasant stroke of luck. At the very thought of food, Savannah’s morale rose a few degrees. “ Thank you. I’ll try to make it,” she said. Then turning to the other women, she added, “And I’m so sorry that all of this has happened. But believe me, we’re doing everything we can to make sure that the rest of the girls remain safe, and that everyone’s questions are answered as soon as possible concerning the details of the tragedy.”
    If Savannah had learned anything, it was when to make a speedy exit. It only took her a matter of seconds to leave the group behind, cross the courtyard, and bolt through the French doors leading into the gallery. Alone in the dark, cool interior, surrounded by the pictures and artifacts of the ages-old art of wine making, Savannah closed her eyes for a moment and willed her troubled spirit to be quiet.
    Her next step was to question Francie Gorton, but the interview would have to wait a few more minutes, until the girls returned from their tour of the winery.
    She thought of Dirk, who had the difficult task of informing the Matthews family of their loss. For once, she was actually relieved that he was the cop and she the private detective.
    Tammy and Ryan were still at the cliff, watching as Dr. Liu’s technicians processed the scene. And although she felt guilty even considering the option, Savannah knew that the most practical thing to do at the moment was go upstairs to her room and lie down, take advantage of this five- or ten-minute break to rest and collect