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

Chapter Sixty-One: Agnes, Saturday

"Why would she open the door to him?"

"I guess she must be planning on confronting him with the device," Al said. "Maybe even arresting him herself."

"Still," Agnes said. "I'm not comfortable with what she did. She brought a tracking device to the house I plan on living in with my children. What if this guy came when I was there and Joanie wasn't? Would I have been forced to fend him off? What if he's dangerous?"

Al and Rachel looked at each other in dismay. "Let's discuss this later," Rachel said. "Let's enjoy some wine."

Rachel pulled the tickets for the four of them from her purse and handed them to a suited man at the canopy, a glorified bouncer by his physique. At least there was someone looking out for trouble this evening, Agnes thought. Rachel had told her earlier she'd texted Lauren about the Mercers, and that Joanie had contacted her superiors. Hopefully a police officer, preferably in plain clothes, would arrive to ensure her safety. 

Why hadn't Agnes thought of having protection at this event in addition to having protection for her children while she was out? Why hadn't she considered that the Mercers might be here? Rick Mackenzie and Whistle Pig Vineyards were just another of their vassals, if what Al had told her was correct. They fed grapes into the ever-widening Mercer maw, so why wouldn't they be here? And their children were marrying! The joining of two houses, Rick had called it. It certainly had a medieval, Game of Thrones quality to it; John Mercer was older than Rick Mackenzie, and the fact that their children were of an age meant that the dirty old bastard had probably impregnated a woman other than his wife, a younger woman certainly, and that this "daughter" was most likely a bastard to be married off, the only scion suitable to marry such a small-time vintner's son. She wanted to warn Rick to spirit those two innocent young people away, somewhere far away from John Mercer's influence, but she didn't think he'd listen to her, because for him, this was a boon. Did he not know how terrible Mercer was? She thought everybody in the Okanagan knew his reputation. Patrick certainly had, and he'd paid the price for it in the end.

They perused the tables of finger foods and plucked tiny flutes of amber coloured ice wine from servers' trays. Rachel helped Emma serve herself some non-alcoholic punch from a large punch bowl. Agnes barely tasted the ice wine. It was wasted on her. Here she was, hoping to have an enjoyable evening after the stress of the morning, and it had soured like over-fermented wine, and now anxiety was burning like acid in her stomach.

Once they were all back together, Al said, "We can get a taxi and get out of here, if you want."

"We can go back to the hotel and see Patrick and Melissa!" Emma said enthusiastically.

"What about your family?" Rachel said. "We can't just go without saying goodbye."

"My priority right now is everyone's safety," Al said. "I can call them later and say something came up, maybe one of us got sick or something."

They were too late, though. The family had entered the canopied hall, accompanied by the Mercers. It occurred to Agnes that other members of that extensive family would have been here if a legitimate child was getting married. The fact that only John and his wife, who was his own age and couldn't possibly be the young woman's mother, were the only ones here spoke volumes about how the rest of the family viewed the poor young woman. She seemed not to be too concerned, though. She and Jared, who as a boy had a crush on Agnes, apparently, looked blissfully happy in each other's presence. They took their glasses of ice wine as Rick strode to a microphone that had been set up in a corner, glass in hand, and welcomed everyone to the event, then made a toast to the engaged couple. The assembled guests clinked glasses and shouted congratulations. Agnes, Rachel and Al dutifully did the same, exchanging wary glances.