Free The Bordeaux Betrayal by Ellen Crosby

a photographic memory because he recognized it. I guess he wanted to share the love because he contacted her editor. And the editor, who got contacted by Bobby Noland, told Bobby.”
    “That’s your motive? Professional revenge for plagiarism?”
    “That’s what they want to know.”
    “Did you ever confront her about it?”
    Joe stared at the horizon. “I only skimmed the first chapter. Never got beyond page fourteen. Of course they think I’m lying. But honestly I had no idea about the plagiarism and probably nobody else on the planet would have either, except for frigging Ryan Worth.”
    He refilled our glasses.
    “Valerie sought me out at Mount Vernon after her talk,” I said. “Told me she knew something about the provenance of one of the wines Jack Greenfield donated for our auction. Kind of taunted me that I didn’t know what I had. Then the guy from her publishing house dragged her off.” I swirled wine in my glass. “Any ideas?”
    “Nope. She mentioned it to me, too, but didn’t want to give up any details. Said it would be a bombshell when word got out.”
    “You weren’t curious?”
    “I didn’t really think about it, you know?”
    I looked at him, remembering how Valerie had kissed him in the colonnade at Mount Vernon and the tangled sheets in the bedroom at Cornwall Cottage. “I guess you must have been preoccupied with other things.”
    His cheeks turned red. “Okay. She did say she never would have known about whatever it was if she hadn’t retraced Jefferson’s vineyard journey through Bordeaux.”
    “Bordeaux? The only vineyard both Valerie and Jefferson visited in Bordeaux was Château Margaux. That’s the Washington wine.” I set my empty wineglass down. “The other place, Château Dorgon, doesn’t exist anymore. The third wine Jack donated is a Domaine de Romanée-Conti—a burgundy.”
    Joe hoisted himself off the stage with both hands and landed on the hard-packed ground. “Come here.” He held out his arms. “I’ll help you down.”
    “Thanks, I’ll take the stairs.” I knew Joe didn’t kill Valerie, but he was getting dragged into whatever brought her down. Part of me thought he didn’t deserve it, but another part of me thought that we reap what we sow.
    Joe seemed to acknowledge the rebuff as he picked up the empty bottle and our glasses. We walked down the path toward the villa at some distance apart.
    “I know you’re mad at me because of Dominique,” he said. “Wish I could change things. Or turn back time.”
    I shrugged. “You know, Valerie didn’t have much professional credibility with Ryan.”
    “I heard his story. She stole his idea. That’s a load of crap. She wrote that book on Jamestown. She got rave reviews.” His voice was hard.
    “Ryan said someone handed it to her on a platter.”
    “Ryan can go to hell. She told me she ran out of time to get the Jefferson book done so she panicked. Plus she was in a bind financially and that put even more pressure on her. I’ve known her for a long time. Valerie was a good scholar, Lucie.”
    “So you think this bombshell, whatever it is, is legitimate?”
    “Yeah, I do.”
    I banged my cane against the ground in frustration. “Dammit, what am I going to do?”
    “I don’t know,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll figure out something. Wish I could help but I got my own fish to fry right now.”
    He left me at the entrance to the villa. I watched him walk down to the parking lot and get into his car.
    Whatever Valerie knew, now I really had to find out.
    They say when you want to dig up some dirt, go find yourself a worm. As it happened, I knew just the worm.
     
    I called Ryan Worth on his cell and caught him on his way out the office door to an evening wine event in D.C.
    “What are you doing at work on a Saturday?” I asked.
    “Since it’s Columbus Day weekend, the place is quiet. I thought I’d get a jump on the next column so I could take a few days off next week. If I don’t get some