‘Tristan “cooperated” with the police,’ she said making air quotes. ‘Showing search and rescue where he last saw him. Getting his own team of ski tourers out there. But nothing. No trace except for Daddy’s jacket, hanging on a rock.’
‘Shit.’
‘Tristan did a good job getting Vitreum back on track, but when a court declared his dad dead three years later, Tristan decided to sell it– to Alexey Stognev, not Walter Steinherr– and start importing his mother’s wine over here.’
‘Did they ever find a body?’
‘Nope. But the rate global warming is going, I reckon he’ll show up. As the glacier retreats, more than ski poles are being discovered. I reckon that’s why Tristan’s hanging around. It’s not like he needs the money from wine sales.’
‘Oh no. Poor guy.’
‘Poor guy? Poor little rich guy. Some say hepushedDaddy into the ravine– he was a bum until then, like Caspian Steinherr, surfing and skiing his way around the world, trying to pretend they weren’t who they were. But, you know, that rumour seems a bit crude.’
‘Shit …’
‘Tristan Joubert changed his name because of the press intrusion– to the name of his mother’s family wine empire– probably worth another five billion. Watch your back, Mama!’
Emme scowled.
‘That’s horrid Cat!’
‘I’m just kidding. He’s made good on it. He sells a shitload of bottles. He made Du Kok Estate one of the most prestigious brands here– and look at the wines we have on our doorstep! The French and Italians don’t like him much. His mother visits once a year.’
Emme shook her head.
‘Wow, five billion dollars…’ she thought about Tristan’s apartment building. Pretty expensive, she imagined, butnot billionaire fancy, like the Anna Maria or the fairy-tale mansion opposite it on the other side of the river. Maybe Tristan the surfer bum was still there; maybe he liked to slum it a little. Maybe he wanted to hide his wealth– or how he came about it.
‘Seriously. He’s sexy, but he knows it. And he is toxic. Avoid him like the plague,nena.’
‘Anastasia Steinherr already knows all this then, I guess…’ Emme mused.
Cat’s champagne went down the wrong way and she coughed into her glass.
‘Are you OK?’ Emme asked, patting Cat on the back.
Cat put her drink down and tried to regain her composure.
‘Anastasia? You know her?’
‘Yes, I saw her, half naked, running out onto Tristan’s balcony when another woman turned up. Then pashing with him before climbing off.’
Cat frowned.
‘You did? When?’
‘Like, the Saturday before last. It was my first day here. Anastasia Steinherr, looks like Cindy C, right? I saw her in the Steinherrhof a few days later, being a bit of a bitch if you ask me.’
‘Right …’
The colour drained from Cat’s face as she shook her head.
‘You said Tristan was dating a Steinherr sister?’ Emme was confused.
At that moment the tall blonde with the rosebud breasts, the blonde from the balcony, the blonde from thesun-drenched café terrace, walked into the bar and straight towards Tristan, kissing him warmly on the lips before greeting his associates.
Now Emme felt ashen-faced as a surge of envy rose through her body, as she watched Tristan put his palm on the small of the woman’s back.
‘That’s the Steinherr sister Ithoughthe was dating,’ Cat said, with an anger that took Emme by surprise. ‘That’s his girlfriend Vivian.’
