The Truth is in the Wine by Curtis Bunn Page A

Richard took him out of the back. He was found less than a mile from our house—the back of our house.
    â€œAnd I was there when Richard came home—he came in through the back door. And, based on the police report, he came home long after the guy saw Richard go into the front door of the house.”
    â€œI can’t even believe this,” Ginger said. “I mean, I am glad my father protected me when I needed protecting. But…”
    â€œI’m blown away, too,” Madeline said. “Richard never said anything to me about him touching you or being in your room. But he didn’t because he knew I would have dug up Ambrose’s body and killed him again. Oh, my God.”
    â€œThere goes my little high,” Brenda said. “This is deep.”
    â€œGinger, you OK?” Paul asked.
    â€œI don’t know,” she said. “I mean, I’m OK. But I don’t know. Iknow my father as one thing and now I learn he almost murdered my uncle.”
    â€œBut—wait, excuse me,” Brenda said. “I don’t mean to be all in this but I’m right here and couldn’t help but hear everything. Is it OK if I ask something?”
    Madeline and Ginger both said it was OK.
    â€œHow can you not know what you feel about this?” Brenda said. “Your father protected you. He swore that he would end the person’s life that laid a hand on you. This guy did and he probably led to his dying because—if what Madeline says is true—he would have been back, and maybe trying to hurt you.
    â€œI’m not very comfortable saying this, but he got what he deserved and your daddy should be a bigger hero in your eyes than he ever was. I’m not condoning killing, but you were a five-year-old girl. What if your father hadn’t come home? How many other girls had he touched and done God-knows-what to?
    â€œI’m sorry; that’s my two cents.”
    â€œIt does mean a lot to me that he saved me from something that could have scarred me for life. But…”
    â€œGinger,” Madeline said, “there are no buts. What’s the word? Romanticize? I’m not trying to romanticize what Richard did. But there are millions of fathers who say they would have done the same thing. Richard, I believe, did it.”
    â€œGin,” Paul said, “if someone, anyone, put a hand on you or Helena in that way, I would kill him, too. Actually doing it is one thing. But that’s what I believe. Your dad protected you. I respect him even more now than I already did.”
    â€œI wish I could call and ask him what happened,” Ginger said. “I want to hear him say it to believe it.”
    â€œWell, unless you want to have a séance, that’s not going to happen,” Madeline said.
    â€œI think,” Paul said, “you should let it go. In the scheme of things, something that happened that long ago should not matter much now.”
    â€œI don’t know about that,” Ginger said. “I mean, it happened, so how can it not matter?”
    Brenda said, “Everything that happens doesn’t matter. And if you ignore it, it’s like it didn’t happen.”
    â€œYou spit some knowledge, Ma,” Paul said.
    â€œâ€Šâ€˜Spit some knowledge?’ ” Ginger asked. “Who are you?”
    â€œDon’t be mad that I am in tune with the ways of the youth,” Paul said.
    â€œ Please . You’re not in tune with the ways of the middle-aged,” Ginger said, laughing.
    Paul had successfully moved Ginger off her base of lamenting the possibility of her father’s actions. And he was intent on keeping her away from that subject.
    â€œOK, copilot, where do we exit?” he said, handing her back her cell phone.
    Ginger gave Paul the specifics and looked out of the window at the mountainside they passed. It was quiet in the car for several minutes, with all the ladies dozing off,