James pulled a mock frown. “Don’t tell me you’re both taken?”

  I scratched my head. “We both are.”

  “Oh well, dinner as friends will have to do.” He patted my arm. “Actually, I’ve got my eye on a girl in the village. Haven’t convinced her to go on a date with me yet, but I’m wearing her down.”

  “Maybe romance is the way to go,” I said. “Not sure being worn down would ever be an incentive for me to go on a date with somebody.”

  James laughed. “A good point. Flowers and chocolates it is.”

  “Is it okay if I bring Flipper?” He looked like he needed time out from his ghostly buddy. He still looked under the weather. The ghost dog hadn’t left his side since it materialized.

  “Not a problem,” said James. “There’s an outside eating area. And it’s such a lovely evening. Find your friend and we can go fill our faces. Then I can tell you all the gossip about the family.”

  The evening sounded even more promising. We left the burnt pie on the counter. I grabbed Helen and we met James at the front of the house.

  “Hop in, girls,” said James, as he jumped into the driver’s seat of a sporty black Jaguar. “Let me titillate your taste buds.”

  “I like the sound of that,” said Helen, as we climbed in.

  James sped away from the house. “Couldn’t leave you and Lorna to eat a charred pie. Might have made you unwell.”

  “I promise you, that was a one off. I never spoil food. But I got distracted by an urgent matter.” She shot me an apologetic look.

  “Well, I’m glad you did,” said James. “Always like to get to know the new staff. The business is a friendly one. We have no airs and graces. People muck in when they need to. Although, I prefer to watch from the sidelines.” He gave us a grin.

  “Have you worked with Julianne for long?” I asked.

  “Not really,” said James. “I know her well, of course. But most of my dealings were with Blake. Now he’s gone, I’m seeing if Julianne and I can work together. I come here once a week for a couple of days to run through business matters, check investments, that sort of thing. So far, it’s going well.”

  “How are you connected to their business?”

  “I’m a wine merchant,” said James, “and a silent partner. I helped Blake when he was getting going, gave him the start-up capital. Never wanted to run my own business, but happy to reap the rewards when someone is successful. Blake had a passion for wine, just like me. I especially like drinking the stuff.”

  “We’ve yet to see the vineyard,” I said.

  “Lovely place,” said James. “And it’s the perfect time of year to see it. Grape harvesting is underway. Our first new batch should be bottled by the end of the week. But it’s the vintage stuff you really want. There’s a few bottles in the cellar worth sampling. I keep some in the hope I’ll get a collector’s item one day. You can make a fortune off a good vintage.”

  “I do enjoy a good bottle of wine,” said Helen.

  “Then that will be our next date,” said James. “I’ll take you to the vineyard and show you around.”

  We drove for the next ten minutes, chatting about the vineyard. James was a friendly guy. I hoped we’d get him on the subject of what really happened to Blake on The Orwell.

  “This is the place.” James pulled up outside a whitewashed wooden building, the window frames painted pale blue and wooden seagulls dotted around everywhere. “I’ll sort us a table on the balcony at the back. Best view around.”

  We followed him into the restaurant and waited as James chatted up the manager before beckoning us to follow him. He led us onto a decked area with half a dozen tables. Several people were already sitting out there, and we chose a quiet table in the corner.

  I settled in my seat and took a moment to appreciate the view. It was incredible, with the azure blue sea sparkling and yachts bobbing on the waves.

  “I recommend the sea bass,” said James, as he sat down. “It comes with a lemon sauce to die for.”

  “That sounds yummy,” said Helen.

  “Unless you’re into oysters. They get them fresh every day. Only need to walk about ten minutes from the dock and they’re already on ice.”

  I wrinkled my nose. Slimy, still living sea critters sliding down my throat was my idea of hell. “Not such an oyster fan.”

  “Neither am I,” said James, as he studied the wine menu. “But people insist they’re wonderful, so I oblige occasionally.”

  The young waitress arrived to take our order. We all chose the sea bass along with fresh local vegetables.

  “We’ll take two bottles of the Firefly Reserve. 2005 if you have that in the cellar.”

  The waitress nodded and hurried away.

  “I’m not much of a drinker,” I said. More than two glasses of anything alcoholic and I saw double.

  “Good job I am,” said James, with a grin. “One of you girls will need to drive the Jag home later. I intend to enjoy myself tonight.”

  “I’ve never driven a Jaguar,” said Helen. “Love to get behind the wheel of yours.”

  “Then my keys are yours,” said James. “So long as you get us back to the house safely, that’s all I care about.”

  Helen grinned at me and rubbed her hands together. I repressed a grimace. Helen in charge of something so powerful would be a frightening thing.

  “I was sorry to hear about what happened to Blake,” I said, deciding it was time to steer the conversation to a useful topic.

  “Darned shame, that’s what it was,” said James.

  We waited as the waitress returned and poured the wine. James sampled it and gave a hearty nod. “Excellent, as always. And so it should be, since it’s one of ours.”

  After the waitress left and we’d all tasted the wine, I tried again. “You mentioned at dinner that you were surprised by how Blake died.”

  “Terrible thing,” said James. “To fall over the side of your own yacht. And then to not be able to get out of the water. Just doesn’t seem believable.”

  “What else could have happened?”

  “I wish I knew,” said James. “We’d not been speaking much just before he died. We’d been friends all these years and then had a silly falling out over some business matter. Last thing I said to him was spoken in anger and I regret that. That’s why I’m questioning his death. I still want him here, so we can make up and forget about the silly row.”

  “How long had you known Blake?” asked Helen.

  “Since we were kids,” said James. “We met at Eton. I was even best man at his wedding.”

  “What were you arguing about?” I asked.

  “Doesn’t matter now,” said James. “The deal happened without me.”

  “Was it something to do with the vineyards?” I persisted. If Blake had shut James out of a profitable business deal that would give him an excellent motive for murder.

  James shrugged. “We had an opportunity to buy extra land. It would have almost doubled the size of the vineyard. We both thought it was a good idea. I offered to go in with some money, take a cut from their business just like before. But Blake turned me down. Said he didn’t need my investment. In fact, he offered to buy me out of the whole thing.”

  “And you didn’t want that?”

  “Definitely not,” said James, as he took a large slug of wine. “Firefly Vineyard is as much mine as it is his. But I guess that’s why he wanted to buy me out, make it a truly family business. But it wouldn’t have been anything without my start-up capital. It didn’t seem right that he wanted to stiff me on this deal.”

  “You wouldn’t know if he was under any pressure from other investors?” I asked. “Maybe they didn’t want another person coming in on the deal.”

  “What are you saying?” James lowered his glass. “He had other people he preferred to do business with?”

  I picked at the napkin on my lap. “Not so much. But what if Blake got too stressed or anxious and couldn’t find a solution?”

  “Then he’d have come to me,” said James. “We were friends.”

  “It can be hard to talk about things when you’re under pressure. Did Blake ever mention finding things tricky? Or wanting a break from everything?”

  “No! Well, nothing ever serious. He joked about starting again. Taking his old guitar and spending a month on a deserted island. But we all think like that at times.”

  “What if he was serious? What if he wanted out of this life permanently?”

  “You’re suggesting suicide?” James swept a hand across the table and knocked his knife to the floor.

  I grabbed the knife and placed it back on the table. “You said he had something on his mind the night he died. And running a business is tricky. Maybe he didn’t accept your investment because he was worried he might lose it.”

  “Nonsense.” James finished his wine and refilled his glass. “Blake had an excellent business head on him, much better than me. And although I resented the fact he didn’t want my money, I understood why he wouldn’t take it. He thrived on the challenge the business presented. Firefly was not struggling. There were no problems he couldn’t handle.”

  The sea bass arrived. I inhaled the rich lemon sauce before sampling some of the perfectly cooked fish. My theory of suicide didn’t seem likely, but neither did the idea that a healthy adult male would fall over board and drown so close to the jetty.

  “Blake had his stresses, but they had nothing to do with the business,” said James.

  “What were the stresses in his life?” I asked.

  “Women. When is it anything else?”

  “We’re not all bad,” said Helen, as she dabbed her mouth with her napkin, her fish already gone.

  “I’m sure you’re perfection.” James grinned at her. “But he was having a few problems with Julianne. And then there was Honey.”

  “I heard a rumor they were more than friends,” I said carefully.

  “Their relationship was a strange one,” said James. “She’s a gorgeous girl, so I can see why Blake might be tempted, but saw nothing going on between them. Perhaps they were being discreet, not wanting to rub Julianne’s nose in it.”

  “You don’t think they were having an affair?”

  “Blake’s not the type to cheat. We’ve had plenty of opportunities, two good-looking guys like us.” He laughed and patted his wine paunch. “But the vibe I got off the two of them was more of a friendly one. And he talked about wanting to mentor Honey and give her the opportunities she’s never had. You don’t talk like that when you’re discussing your mistress.”

  I flashed a surprised look at Helen. Maybe Honey hadn’t been Blake’s mistress. She could really have been his assistant and he was helping her gain valuable experience so she could set up her own millinery.

  “Julianne doesn’t like Honey being around,” I said. “That suggests she thinks something odd was going on between them.”

  “She can’t stand the poor girl,” said James. “And now Blake is gone, she bullies her. Has her working in the kitchen some nights. That’s not what Blake would have wanted.”

  From what I was learning of Blake, he sounded like a decent guy, but he must’ve done something wrong to get himself shoved overboard.

  We finished our food, and James grabbed the dessert menu. “I can never resist something sweet. Women, wine, and chocolate will be my downfalls. But what a fabulous way to go.”

  “I’m the same,” said Helen. “Well, apart from the women. And I’m more of a champagne girl. But dessert is my favorite part of every meal, even at breakfast.”

  James chuckled as he ran his finger down the menu. “You can never go wrong with chocolate brownie and ice cream.”

  I scanned the menu and selected a pecan tart with Amaretto cream. My thoughts shifted to the ghost dog who had remained at the house. “Hope you don’t mind Flipper coming with us this evening?”

  “Not at all,” said James, glancing at Flipper, who had curled himself next to my feet and enjoyed a few morsels from my plate. “He’s well-behaved. Hardly noticed he was here.”

  “Does the family have any pets?”

  “They had Dillon.”

  “Who’s Dillon?”

  “He was a black labrador,” said James. “Sweetest of dogs and so loyal.”

  “He’s not around anymore?”

  James lowered his dessert menu. “Ah. You didn’t hear that part of the story?”

  “Something happened to Dillon?” My stomach clenched and my hand reached for Flipper.

  “That’s the saddest part of this whole thing,” said James. “Blake fell overboard, landed in the water, and Dillon jumped in to save him. They both drowned. Dillon died trying to save Blake.”

  Chapter 11

  I stared open mouthed at James. “That’s terrible.”

  “It is,” said James. “He was such a lovely dog and devoted to Julianne and Blake. They got him when he was a puppy about ten years ago. Always so well-behaved. Just like your dog.”

  “I always thought dogs were good swimmers,” said Helen.

  “Dillon was a good swimmer,” said James. “But we assumed he got tired or wouldn’t leave the water until he’d found Blake. It’s terribly sad.”

  I exchanged a glance with Helen. At least now we knew who the ghost dog was.

  We ordered our desserts, Helen choosing a triple chocolate sundae, and devoured them as we enjoyed the last of the sun and the view before it was time to leave.

  Helen took great delight in cruising back to the house in James’s Jaguar, while he sat in the back seat regaling me of his time at Eton and the fun he’d gotten up to with Blake.

  “Our next trip out will be to the vineyard,” said James, as we arrived back at the house. “I’ll take you on your first day off. Always like showing beautiful women around the place. And you never know, I might get one of you to fall for me and leave your boyfriend for a life of wine and adventure in Cornwall.”

  Helen politely giggled, and I shook my head as I smiled at James. For all his flirtiness, he was an interesting guy. A little too fond of the booze, but he had fun as his top priority, and seemed determined to enjoy life.

  We said goodnight to James, leaving him in the study to enjoy a large nightcap of whiskey, and returned to my bedroom. I kicked off my shoes as Helen and Flipper settled themselves on the bed.

  “So, we’ve discovered who our ghost dog is,” said Helen.

  “And we’ve also discovered another suspect,” I said. “Despite James’s good humor, it must have stung to be left out of a business deal like that. And he mentioned earlier that he’d won money on the horses. Perhaps his betting habit has gotten out of hand and he needs money. Money he would have gotten through this business deal Blake shut him out of.”

  “So, he thought he’d get rid of Blake and get his hands on the business?”

  I scratched my head. “Not certain. Doesn’t sound like he got anything after Blake died, though. Maybe he was thinking he could take over the business, run it for himself.”

  “But then ran into a problem when Marcus and Julianne started vying to be the boss.” Helen stretched out across my bed. “You need to learn dog sign language. Dillon might have the answers for us, since he was on the yacht the night Blake died. He would have seen if Blake’s death was an accident or if someone shoved him overboard.”

  “Doggy sign language! You look into that and let me know how it goes.”

  “Even if I was fluent in doggy sign language, it would be no use to me, since I can’t see the ghost dog.”

  “There is that problem.” I looked around the room and spotted a haze at the end of the bed. “Looks like Dillon’s coming back. Poor Flipper won’t be happy.”

  Dillon popped into view, his tail wagging, as he drifted onto the bed.

  Helen shuddered and sat up. “Did he climb over me?”

  “He wants to get close to Flipper.” I watched as Dillon turned in a circle and lay next to Flipper, who was already looking unhappy at his new companion’s arrival.

  Helen brushed imaginary dirt off her clothes. “Ask him what happened to Blake and ask him to go fetch his owner.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “That’s actually a good idea.”

  “I’m full of good ideas,” said Helen. “Get Dillon to find Blake, bring him here, and we can figure out what happened to him. You could be right; this could all be a big misunderstanding and all we have is a confused dog who’s lost his owner. Once we reunite them, they’ll disappear and that will be it. End of the ghost mystery and we can get on with our jobs.”

  I patted the bed to get Dillon’s attention. He raised his head and looked at me. “What do you think, boy? Fancy going to find your owner?”

  Dillon tilted his head to one side, his ears raised.

  “Find Blake.”

  Flipper raised his head and a low grumble came from him.

  I petted his head. “Don’t worry. There’s no need for you to get jealous. I’m just asking if Dillon can help us.”

  Flipper continued to grumble as he settled his head back on his paws.

  “Maybe he’s not growling about Dillon,” said Helen. “Could be he’s sensing Blake approaching.”

  “I can’t feel anything.” I looked carefully around the room, trying to pick up any sign of another ghost, but everything was peaceful and I wasn’t getting the shivers.

  “Dillon, go find Blake,” I said to him. “Go find your master. He might need our help.”

  Dillon dragged himself to his feet and stared at me, his big dark eyes unblinking.

  “He’s not impressed with my suggestion,” I said to Helen. “Go on, boy. Go find Blake.”

  Dillon grabbed hold of the sheets on my bed and yanked them off, making Helen yelp and Flipper jump to his feet and bark.

  “Dillon, behave!” I grabbed the end of the sheet and pulled it away from him.

  “I see what you mean,” said Helen, as she helped me straighten the bedding. “Why is he getting so agitated about finding Blake? You think he’d be happy to find his owner.”

 

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