Page 24 of Sharing Forever in Hope Creek (Hope Creek #2)

A flicker of unease crossed Thompson’s features before he widened his eyes and moved his hand in a dismissive gesture.

‘Stockpiling? Pay no attention to what you overheard. Steve’s a drama queen well known for blowing steam out of his arse.

’ He gave a short laugh. ‘We’re talking about a mere hundred, maybe hundred and fifty cases that were due to go to one of the private liquor outlets in Melbourne.

’ Rather than looking at Jack, the other man picked up some papers on his desk then replaced them—striking Jack again as trying too hard to look casual.

‘It was a small outlet that went into liquidation.’ He waved one hand dismissively.

‘I’m going to have the wine distributed over the next month to one of the other larger retail outlets. ’

Jack had to hand it to him, Thompson could think on his feet. But Jack wasn’t backing down either. Making the question sound conversational he asked, ‘Why aren’t you following your winemaker’s recommendation to enter wine into a show?’

Thomspon cleared his throat. ‘Sales are great. We don’t need the additional publicity and I’m not in business so I can pump up his ego with more medals. I also don’t want demand to outstrip supply.’

Who the hell was he kidding? Every business owner wanted demand to outstrip supply. ‘That goes against every sound business principle.’

Jack watched as Thompson’s jaw tightened and a tide of red swept up his neck and into his cheeks all the way from the V of his unbuttoned business shirt.

‘Jack, you can enter as many damned wine shows as you like—run the business any way you see fit once it’s your business.

Right now, it’s my business and I’ll run it the way I want to.

’ Not only was there aggression in every word, but there was aggression in his posture—the way he’d leaned forward over the desk and in the way his hands gripped the edge as he did so.

He must’ve realised it because in the blink of an eye the fake, casual, good-humoured expression was restored and his body relaxed.

‘Take it from me. You’ll enjoy winning medals initially, but then all the paperwork, organising the delivery of the samples and the steep entry fees become a damned pain in the arse for these shows—and half the time I swear they’re rigged.

These judges are often winemakers themselves and it’s a case of you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.

I’ll award you the gold medal in this show and you award me the gold medal in the next show. ’

Jack highly doubted it but simply nodded. Deciding to let Thompson relax, Jack sat in the chair opposite the desk.

‘Unfortunate you heard Steve’s little tantrum, but don’t let it put you off him,’ Thompson said as he took his seat behind the desk. ‘He’s a good, experienced winemaker and you’ll be hard placed to find a harder worker.’

‘Good to hear.’

‘Anyway, what did you want to talk about? Are you here to make an offer?’

Jack didn’t let his gaze wander away from Thompson’s. Before he got to the main question, he needed another matter settled. ‘Does the name Covington ring a bell?’

For a second, Thompson looked startled, then he raised a hand to his face and rubbed it over his jaw in the most contrived ‘absent-minded’ action Jack had ever witnessed.

‘Covington?’ he repeated slowly. ‘Well, it’s not exactly a common surname.

I think I went to school once with a fellow by that name.

Er … yes, Peter Covington I think it was.

Very gifted in maths but hopeless when it came to rugby.

He wasn’t part of my social circle though.

’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Would that be the chap?’

Jack was certain that Thompson knew damned well it wasn’t. ‘No. I was thinking of someone else—thought I caught a glimpse of him here the other day.’

Thompson gave a forced laugh, picked up a pen and twirled it between his fingers. ‘Oh well, you might have. We’re getting a lot of tourists through at the moment.’

That was interesting because the car park had been empty when he and Callie had visited the other day.

Jack looked out through the office window pointedly and saw that his vehicle was the only car in the visitor section today as well.

But he’d let the Covington issue slide for the moment.

‘I received some disturbing information on Saturday night.’

The words fell heavily between them, causing ripples of tension.

Thompson’s shoulders instantly rose and betrayed his stress even while he managed a casual, ‘Oh?’

‘It was interesting for me to overhear Steve’s comment about your warehouse in Melbourne in light of what I’d heard.’

Thompson’s jaw firmed and he sat forward.

‘I don’t read minds and I’m not into word games, Marshall.

I’m not connecting any dots here. I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about, but I’d appreciate you getting to the point as I have another meeting in—’ he glanced at his watch, ‘—about an hour and a half.’

A meeting at five-thirty? Jack doubted that was true given the lateness of the hour, but he let it slide. ‘Does the name Mark Ainsley mean anything to you?’

Andrew’s jaw slackened for a split second before he recovered.

‘No.’ His response was firm this time with no pretence of searching his memory.

‘Why are you asking me about these people I’ve never met?

If you want to hunt out the who’s who of my social connections, I suggest you check out my social media accounts—although even some of my followers there aren’t personally known to me. You know how social media works.’

‘I—’

‘What’s this in relation to, Marshall?’

‘I’ve been informed Ainsley has recently cashed out of your side business—a wine investment business, I believe you call it?’

Thompson rolled his eyes exaggeratedly and sat back in his chair, dropping the pen on the desk as he did so. ‘You want to invest in some wine, why the hell didn’t you say so? I’ve got some great Australian and international stock that’s an investor’s dream.’

Jack fought to keep his cool in the face of such brilliant acting skills.

No wonder Thompson had suckered people into his scheme.

But if Thompson believed he had found another victim he was badly mistaken.

Jack had every intention of exposing his ‘investment scheme’ and shutting the crook down.

‘How long have you had the investment business?’

‘Over two years now.’

‘Around the same time as you expanded operations here and started your own bottling and labelling.’ Even though the words had been delivered in a matter-of-fact tone, Thompson’s jaw tightened and a muscle tic appeared in his cheek.

Time to call him out. ‘You may call it a wine investment business. From what I understand of such businesses and from what I’ve heard about yours, the authorities would call it a Ponzi scheme. ’

Thompson shot to his feet. ‘What the hell? You’ve got a bloody nerve!’

‘I’m told Mark Ainsley was one of your first investors,’ Jack continued calmly.

‘Knowing of your established reputation as a respected food and wine critic, he invested in supposedly rare vintage wine with the promise of unusually high returns. That was all going well until he decided to opt out and cash in on his investment. I’m yet to find out what you did with the money from your earlier investors, but I’m told Mark had to wait for a considerable amount of time to cash out.

’ Jack took satisfaction in seeing the skin on Thompson’s neck become a mottled red.

‘In fact, I’ve been told he only received the payment around the same time he heard of a couple of other investors who had joined your scheme. ’

‘And you believe everything you’re told?’ he sneered. ‘I thought you were a successful businessman but now I’m thinking you’re a wet-behind-the-ears son who’s riding on his rich father’s coat-tails.’

Jack ignored the insulting jibe. ‘I’m having the matter fully investigated and turning over whatever I find to the police.’

Thompson banged his fist down on the desk before he pointed to the door. ‘You can forget about buying my vineyard. Get out, Marshall.’

Jack wasn’t budging. ‘The “rare wine” Ainsley and your other clients think they’ve purchased is wine you’ve made here at Hope Creek, isn’t it?

You’ve forged the labels, swapped them over on the wine you’ve bottled right here, and have it sitting in the warehouse in Melbourne to give the appearance of storing large quantities of valuable wine. ’

‘That’s bullshit!’ Thompson’s face was bright red now.

‘Actually, it’s fraud, and it explains why you only employ transient staff in your labelling operation. At this stage, it’s an educated guess, but I’d say there’s probably some money laundering and tax evasion going on as well that the authorities will be very interested in.’

Thompson spluttered a bit before he demanded, ‘What do you want, Marshall?’

‘I came here for answers. Now you’ve provided them I’ll be seeking justice for those you’ve conned.’

‘You bloody little Boy Scout. You don’t know shit.’ He threw his hands up in the air. ‘Huh! You won’t find anything. You’re wasting your time.’

Inwardly, Jack cursed. ‘It won’t be hard for the police to confirm the details.’

Jack had hoped he was wrong. Hoped whoever it was who sent the text was someone who had a beef with Thompson or who wanted him to lose interest in the vineyard so he could buy it himself. Now he had to hope that his dreams were ultimately salvageable in all this mess.

Thompson drew himself up and his jaw thrust forward for a second before he started coming around the desk. He pointed menacingly at Jack and demanded, ‘Are you trying to blackmail me?’

Jack stood. ‘I want the truth.’

‘You want a cut? Is that why you’re here?’

Jack didn’t respond. It was taking all his energy to keep his fists by his sides when he really wanted to ram them against Thompson’s jaw.