Sinfandel by Gina Cresse Read Free Book Online Page A

all night watching and waiting for one of the many low-life criminals who lurk under the surface of good society.  He was a soldier in the war to protect the law abiding citizens of our community.  The least I could do was feed the man.  And it couldn’t hurt to get on his good side.
    For an instant, he looked at me as if I’d offered him a kilo of cocaine.  But then I saw the hint of a smile.  “Depends.”
    “Omelet?  Fresh squeezed orange juice?  Grapes right off the vine?”
    “You twisted my arm,” he said as he headed back toward my door.
    Obermeyer sat at the breakfast bar and watched as I cracked the eggs and chopped onions and bell peppers.
    “So, tell me more about this neighbor of yours,” he said.
    As I sprayed water over a colander of grapes in the sink, I glanced out the kitchen window in the direction of my neighbor’s place.  “All I really know is there is a lot of late night activity.  Cars come and go at all hours.”
    He took a drink of the orange juice I’d squeezed for him.  “Enough to cause suspicion.”
    “Oh, and last spring I was using my garden tractor to mow the tall grass along the road in front of my property.  I ran out of gas near the bridge, so I walked back to the house, had some lunch, then carried the gas can back to the tractor, only it was gone.”
    “Someone took it?” he said.
    “The next day I went to our local gas station and there was my tractor in the back of his pickup!”
    “You’re kidding.  What’d you do?”
    “I asked him why my tractor was in his truck.  He said he didn’t know it was mine.  Said he just found it on the side of the road and thought nobody wanted it.”
    Obermeyer shook his head, incredulous.
    “Mind you, this is a brand new John Deere. Like someone’s going to leave it on the side of the road to be adopted.”
    “So he returned it, I take it.”
    “I used my cell phone to take a picture of it in the back of his truck and told him if it wasn’t back on my property in ten minutes I’d e-mail it to the police, along with my side of the story.  He’s been nothing but nice ever since, but I don’t go out of my way to show him my good side.”
    Breakfast was served at the table and I’d just sat down across from Obermeyer when there was another knock at my door.  Suddenly I was Miss Popular.
    I opened the door to find Andy Carmichael standing on my porch, holding a gift-wrapped package that looked like it might be a book.  He glanced over my shoulder at Detective Obermeyer sitting at my table, a fancy breakfast for two, and me in my bathrobe.
    I swallowed the egg in my mouth.  “Andy.  Did we have an appointment?”
    He sized up the situation pretty quickly and shook his head.  “No, I just wanted to let you know the crew will be out this afternoon to work on the vineyard irrigation.  We’ll start picking next week.”
    “Oh.  Thanks.”  I suddenly felt awkward.  “Would you like some breakfast?  I was just making omelets.”
    “No, no.  I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
    As he tried to leave, I pointed to the gift in his hand.  “Is that for me?”
    He stopped, looked at the object like it was radioactive, and shook his head.  “No.” 
    Then he left.
     
    After breakfast, I walked with Detective Obermeyer to the bridge and watched the fate of the notorious marijuana plants.  The harvesting crew looked more like a Hazmat team, wearing coveralls, their hands and faces protected with gloves and masks.
    “What will they do with all these plants?” I asked.
    “They’ll be labeled and stored as evidence, if we ever bring the case to trial.”
    After the plants were cut down, the roots were dug up and yanked out, and a pre-emergent was sprayed on the soil to prevent any re-growth.
    My cell phone rang as I watched the crew work.  It was Monica.
    “What are you doing today?” she asked.
    “Watching the police harvest a crop of marijuana they found growing near my pond.  How about