A Good Day for Chardonnay (Sunshine Vicram #2) by Darynda Jones

“I think Minnie Mouse is still available.”

“Okay,” she said, hopping off the stool, “I’m tired and I’m angry and I have a lot to process.”

“Clues?”

“No, carbs. I have a lot of carbs to process. I had a weak moment on the way over.”

“I hope you don’t think you’re driving.”

“Nope.” She tossed him her keys. “You are. We need to get to Santa Fe.”

He pouted. “I drank, too.”

“You took, like, three sips.”

“I’m being punished for not being a lush?”

“How is catching bad guys punishment?”

A sheepish grin slid across his handsome face. “Good point.”





29


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An hour later, Quincy dropped Sun off at an old friend’s house and she found herself in the woman’s living room, drinking a glass of chardonnay and reminiscing about the good old days. Not that Nancy was home yet, but Sun could wait. And she did.

When she heard the keys jingle in the lock at the door, she put the glass aside and watched as the woman stepped inside her dark house. She flipped on the light to the living room, turned, and saw Sun.

“Oh, my God!” she said, throwing a hand over her heart. “Sunshine? What the hell? You scared the shit out of me.”

“Hey, Nance. Long time.”

The woman, a tall strawberry blond with a wide smile and huge brown eyes, put down her bag and grew wary. Glancing around like she half expected a team of law enforcement officers to emerge from the darkness and arrest her, she asked warily, “How’d you get in here?”

Sun lifted the key. “You still keep it in the same place. And you still keep late hours, I see.”

Nancy slipped off her heels, looked at the open bottle of wine, and took a glass out of the cabinet. She walked over and poured herself a couple of ounces, her hand shaking, clinking the bottle against the rim on the delicate glass.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked Sun.

“More like, to whom,” Sun said. “Two names. Wynn. Ravinder.”

Nancy pulled her lips tight through her teeth as she studied her wine. “The man whose DNA was on that jacket?”

“The very one.”

She shook out of her thoughts. “I don’t have the file here. What did you need to know?”

“How he did it.”

“I only run the tests, Sun. You know that.”

“No, right. I know. I’m just wondering how he got you to alter it for him.”

She said nothing for a very long time, then downed the drink in one gulp before pouring another one.

Sun took that as a sign of guilt. “I believe the words you’re searching for are, ‘He blackmailed me.’ Or ‘He threatened me.’ Or, hell, even, ‘He coerced me to do his bidding by discovering my weakness for Oreos and offering me a year’s supply.’ Anything but, ‘I did it because I love him.’ That’s just a little too cliché.”

She kept her gaze downcast. “I do love him.”

“Oh, my God, Nancy.” Sun scrubbed her face with her fingertips and stood to look out a plate glass window, the stunning view of Santa Fe at night lost on her, her fury too great to appreciate it.

Her friend had always been a hot mess, but altering DNA evidence? Every single test she’d ever run would now be questioned. Every person convicted on evidence she processed would be thrown out. People guilty of murder and rape and molestation and trafficking … any number of felons would now have to be retried or released altogether.

What Sun was about to do was beyond unethical, but she could not allow that to happen. Not if she could help it. She had to know.

“Don’t worry, Sun,” Nancy said, her voice breaking. “He doesn’t love me back.”

“How many?”

“You don’t understand. He saved my brother’s life in Arizona. They were going to kill him.”

“How many cases, Nance? How many did you tamper with?”

“Just this one, I swear. You’ve met my brother. Kevin wouldn’t be alive today if not for Wynn.”

“He’s a shot caller, Nance. Your brother probably wasn’t even in any real danger. It was most likely a setup to get you under his thumb. To save you for a rainy day.”

“No, this happened years ago. And then we started writing.” She looked away. “Well, I wrote him mostly. He never asked me for anything until now.”

“That’s how they work. C’mon, Nancy. You can’t be this naïve.”

When she didn’t respond, Sun did the only thing she could do in this situation. “Tomorrow morning, you’re going to resign.”

A look of absolute panic hijacked her face. “I—I can’t.”

“You will or I’ll turn you over to SFPD. All of your cases … It’ll be a mess, and you know it.”

She raised her chin. “It’ll be your word against mine.”