by J. C. Eaton
The weeds were waist-high around the barn, but if I wanted to get a peek at what they had inside, I’d have to peer through the dirt-covered windows. I took the closest side to where I stood and trampled my way through the weeds until I was eye level with the window. Ew! Godfrey would have a field day. It was covered with cluster flies and other assorted insects in various stages of decay.
I tried not to think about it as I placed my hand over my forehead and leaned into the glass pane. Had it not been for the shafts of light that slanted in through the wooden barn slats, I wouldn’t have seen the tarp-covered vehicle that took up the entire floor.
There was nothing in the world that indicated the car beneath that old tarp was Vance’s Karmann Ghia, but I had a strong feeling it was. Glen Foreign Motors was less than an hour from Kashong Point on a straight-line road, making it the perfect place to stash a stolen vehicle in the wee hours of the morning.
The expression jumping to conclusions immediately sprang to mind, but I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling I was inches away from the only clue that would lead to Vance’s killer. I backed away from the window and started toward the driveway when I heard a soft rustling sound at ground level. My first thought was a snake. But snakes are usually quiet. Maybe it was a rabbit. They were everywhere. But apparently, so were skunks. And the one that was making its way toward me looked like the grand behemoth of his family.
I tried to remember all the things I learned in Girl Scouts about encounters with nature, but the best I could come up with was stay calm. Easy for some Girl Scout leader to tell the troop, but considering I could be doused in an ungodly stench at any given second, stay calm wasn’t exactly something I could control.
When I first arrived to babysit the winery, Charlie had managed to have an encounter with a skunk and it didn’t go well. Now, I was about to join him. And while Charlie probably chased his skunk with a gleeful prance, I eyeballed mine as if it was an explosive.
The thing moved slowly and deliberately, inching its way closer and closer to me. One sudden move on my part and it would be all over. I held my breath and started counting. What on earth for, I had no idea, but it was something to keep me from screaming at the top of my lungs.
At twenty-nine, the behemoth was inches from my feet. I looked down and willed my body to stop shaking. Like that would work. With no other recourse, I closed my eyes and expected the worst, but it didn’t happen.
The skunk continued to meander through the weeds until it veered right and crossed in front of the barn. I could feel cold beads of sweat on my neck, but I was too petrified to make the slightest move to wipe them off.
Finally, when the thing was out of sight, I tiptoed down the driveway with my eyes glued to the ground. That’s when I realized I was standing over honest-to-goodness evidence—the tire tracks. I whipped out my cell phone and began clicking photos. If that Karmann Ghia was in the barn, maybe I could prove it by the tire tracks.
Thankfully Stephanie was still keeping the salespeople mesmerized when I returned to the car. I gave a quick honk and hoped she’d come up with an even quicker excuse to get out of there.
Seconds later, I watched her exit the building, but not before turning and waving to whomever she had been with inside.
“I really need a Mercedes,” she said when she buckled up her seat belt. “You have no idea how exhilarating it is to be behind the wheel of one of those cars.”
“You took it out on a test drive? I didn’t hear you.”
“Not here. But they have the same make and model like the one I drove in Geneva. Honestly, my pulse was racing and I could feel the hairs on my skin standing at attention. Only a Mercedes can do that to someone.”
Or a freaking skunk.
“Stephanie, forget the Mercedes for a minute and focus. I may have located Vance’s car. Okay, before you say anything, it’s a long shot, but if the tire tracks belong to the same kind of tire that would be on a Karmann Ghia, then I’ve got to get back here and find a way into their barn.”
“Barn? Tire tracks? What are you talking about?”
“A reason for me to go to Cabela’s Inc. to see if they sell skunk spray.”
Chapter 23
It was past five when I dropped Stephanie off at Gable Hill, and I probably should have gone directly home to conk out. Instead, I decided to see how things were going in our tasting room and got swept into the kitchen by Glenda the minute I set foot in the door.
“Only a few customers left,” she said, “and they’re busy purchasing wine. No one can hear us in here.”
“What is it they can’t hear?”
Glenda closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. “I called Zenora the second I got home yesterday and asked her to help me find out who burned down Adeliza and Derella’s house. She has a plethora of connections, you know.”
“Um, in her spirit circle, or coven?”
“What? No. At the university in their records department. Zenora doesn’t just work for the Essential Oils Company, she’s been with Cornell for years. First as a file clerk and then a research assistant at Uris Library. Now she even has an office of her own. Granted, it’s kind of a cubbyhole in the basement and rumor has it they gave her that office because she kind of scared the students, but it’s a lucky break for us.”
“That she’s in the basement?”
Glenda nodded. “That’s where they house all the delicate and ancient tomes. According to Zenora, there’s scads of information about the original Benton residents, including the ones on this hill.”
“Are you trying to tell me she found something already?”
“Not yet, but she’s determined. She’s also very concerned about you, Norrie. She has this premonition you’re in trouble.”
“Tell her it’s not a premonition, it’s only my relationship with Deputy Hickman.”
“I’m serious. She’s serious. And that’s not all. Remember when I told you burning down a witch’s house doesn’t remove any curses she made?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, there’s more. According to Zenora, it makes the curse or curses even stronger.”
Just the thing I need to hear right now.
“Uh, yeah, well, thanks for letting me know. Keep me posted, okay?”
“Sure thing.”
I slipped out of the winery before anyone else could give me wonderful tidings. Then I went home to focus on those tire prints. An hour later, after countless Google sites, I was more confused than ever. Width. Ratio. Diameter. I now knew how to read the tire information should I ever need it, but it didn’t do me one bit of good as far as those tracks were concerned.
Vance’s car was decades old. That meant it would be on its what? Fortieth or fiftieth tire rotation, depending on how often the previous owners replaced the tires? I stared at my iPhone photos and groaned.
The groan was apparently a clue for Charlie to get up from his dog bed and shove his food bowl across the kitchen floor. I immediately replenished it with kibble and stared at the photos again. There was only one person I knew who might have an inkling about car tires, and that was John. I also knew that if I told him my intentions, he’d tell me to stop what I was doing immediately and leave everything to the sheriff’s office.
“It’s a crapshoot, Charlie,” I said when I turned off my phone. “Do I ask Don and Theo or maybe Godfrey or Bradley? Certainly not anyone at the winery. None of our employees are familiar with that sort of thing.”
Then, like a flash, it dawned on me—Hank Walden from Walden’s Garage. If he didn’t have a clue, no one would. I grabbed my phone again and dialed the number. The garage was closed for the day but I left a message about needing an oil change and asked Hank to call me first thing in the morning.
When the landline rang about an hour later, I figured Hank might have been checking his messages and decided to call back, but it was Bradley.
His usual upbeat voice sounded anything but. “You’re not going to believe this. Ugh. I don’t want
to believe this. Marvin’s sister-in-law fractured her hip and he has to cart his wife back and forth to the hospital in Rochester because she’s too frazzled to drive there and visit with the sister.”
“Um, yeah. That’s too bad but it really shouldn’t affect you.”
“Oh, hell, it does. Marvin has this major estate settlement in the Thousand Islands and he was supposed to drive there on Wednesday and stay for the remainder of the week to meet with the family and work out the details. And when I say family, I mean wealthy family. Extremely wealthy family. They own their own island up there.”
“Oh, no. I think I know where this is going.”
“You got it—I’m going. Marvin’s secretary rearranged my schedule. I’m taking his reservation at the prestigious Gananoque Inn and Spa in Gananoque, Canada. Listen, Norrie, before you say anything, is there any chance you can join me? I know it’s last-minute, but I won’t be working twenty-four hours a day. We’d have plenty of time to explore and relax.”
The vision of Blind Lady Justice holding the scales immediately popped into my head. On one scale was a fantastic opportunity for a genuine vacation at a ritzy spa during the height of tourist season. On the other was a less-desirable offering—three possible murders to investigate and one winemakers dinner that I absolutely couldn’t miss.
“Phooey. Why did that sister-in-law have to break her hip this week? I’d love to say yes but I can’t. I’ve got that winemakers dinner and I think I’m getting closer to figuring out who might have killed Vance because I don’t, for a minute, believe it was natural causes or that idiotic curse.”
“Can’t you let the sheriffs’ offices deal with it?”
“They’d have Alex under arrest and possibly Madeline. I’m sorry, Bradley. I really am. Maybe some other relative of Marvin’s will need assistance in the future.”
“We’ll figure out something for a getaway weekend. I promise. Look, don’t do anything reckless while I’m gone. I’ll touch base before I drive up there. I’m missing you already.”
“Ditto.”
Ditto? Who says ditto when someone throws a romantic line at you?
When I got off the phone, I felt lousy. Not because I couldn’t join Bradley, but because I really wasn’t sure where we were headed. Francine and Jason would be back by Bastille Day, unless Godfrey was placating me, and if that was the case, I’d fly to that insect-infested rain forest and drag those two home by myself.
Bradley knew when we started to see each other that I would be returning to Manhattan and long-distance relationships weren’t in the cards. Then again, it wasn’t a hard-and-fast rule.
I had a fitful night’s sleep after the phone call and hoped it wasn’t the start of a poor sleep pattern. The following morning Hank called. At seventy thirty-three to be exact. He’d just received a cancellation for eight thirty and could do the oil change at that time.
An hour later, I pulled into his garage on Pre-Emption Road.
“This shouldn’t take that long,” Hank said. “There’s coffee on the counter in the front room and some donuts. Help yourself.”
Since I was the only one in the garage, I called Gladys at the public safety building to see if she’d learned anything more about the official investigation.
“My goodness, Norrie, if you weren’t at the other end of this line, I’d swear you were listening in to Deputy Hickman a few minutes ago. Vance Wexler’s death is now officially a homicide. Don’t worry. He left the office. I can talk.”
“How? What happened? What did they use?”
“I’ve got the notes in front of me. Horrible scrawls. Someone didn’t do a very good job teaching that man penmanship. And now I have to type this up.”
“The homicide. Tell me.”
“It wasn’t detected on the victim’s body but traces were found on his bedding. The postmortem toxicology testing took longer than expected due to summer vacation schedules and a decrease in staff.”
“What wasn’t detected?”
“Chloroform.”
“Chloroform? That doesn’t kill anyone. It makes them woozy and then―Oh, my gosh. Someone suffocated him with a pillow or something. Am I right?”
“Partially. The chloroform explains the nearly microscopic traces of cotton in the victim’s nostrils. Oh, for heaven’s sake!”
“What?”
“Deputy Hickman spelled nostrils wrong.”
I rolled my eyes and tried to focus. Hank was still under my car but I knew he’d be finishing up quickly.
“Uh, what were you saying about the cotton fibers?”
“According to the deputy’s notes, Vance was rendered unconscious by chloroform and then someone shoved cotton balls up his nostrils, spelled with one l, not two, and cupped his mouth shut until he suffocated. My, if that isn’t gruesome I don’t know what is.”
“Yeah. Gruesome.” And it was done by a flesh-and-blood human being, and not some witchy spirits back from the dead. Curse or no curse.
Chapter 24
I thanked Gladys and swore I wouldn’t breathe a word of what she said to anyone until it surfaced on the nightly news, which she assured me it would. “Those reporters have been badgering this office for over a week, Norrie. The cause of death is now public information so I’d be channel surfing tonight if I were you.”
“Um, one more thing if you don’t mind,” I said. “Is Deputy Hickman looking into the whereabouts of Vance’s car?”
Gladys groaned. “Aargh. That. Let me tell you about it. Someone gave the deputy wrong information during the initial questioning at the scene of death. Deputy Hickman was under the impression that Mr. Wexler had been driven to Kashong Point with other members of the historical society’s team. He only learned the truth a few days ago and has been scrambling ever since.”
I was at a crossroads whether or not to let the sheriff’s office know about my encounter with Jerome, who pushed me off a dock when I asked about the car, and the key fob I found at Overlook Glen yesterday, not to mention my suspicion about what was in the barn behind Glen Foreign Motors. I was about to say something when Hank opened the door to the office, where I was seated, and shouted, “Got your car done!”
“I’ve got to run, Gladys. I’m at Walden’s Garage and my car is ready. Good talking with you.”
I paid Hank and thanked him for changing the oil on such short notice. Then I pulled up my iPhone and held out the photos of the tire tracks that I took yesterday.
“If you’ve got a second, can you tell by looking at these photos what kind of car would have the tires that made those tracks?”
“Is this some sort of contest?”
“No. I’m actually trying to locate a missing car that may be involved in a murder.”
“Whoa. Shouldn’t the sheriff’s office be doing that?”
“I think they are, but I may have stumbled upon some information. It’s about the person who was found dead at Kashong Point.”
“Oh, yeah. That whole curse thing. Gimme another look at that phone.”
Hank studied the photos and rubbed his chin. “I’ll be darned. Looks like a classic fifteen-inch rim Volkswagen tire. Popular on most models.”
“Can you narrow it down to a specific model?”
“I’m afraid not. Tires aren’t model-specific. They go by maximum load and car design. Hey, I know this is none of my business, but a word to the wise—don’t go looking for trouble where there isn’t any.”
Oh, trust me. There is.
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
I turned off my phone as soon as Hank was done looking. No sense having it on once I got behind the wheel. The last thing I needed was a hefty fine for getting caught driving while distracted on a county road. I had become worse than a Pavlovian dog lately, snatching up the phone the minute it went off, no matter where I was.
“So, looks like your sister and brother-in-law will be home soon if my memory serves me right,” he said.
“I’m counting the days. Not to say th
is hasn’t been an interesting year, but I’m much more of a city girl.”
Hank gave me a funny look and smiled. “You could have fooled me.”
From the garage, I drove directly to the winery with the hope that maybe Zenora pulled an all-nighter in the Uris Library basement and uncovered some telling information about the fire that destroyed the Marsten residence.
Instead, I was greeted with disturbing information from Cammy. “Godfrey Klein’s been trying to reach you for the past half hour. He’s on his way to the Yates County Public Safety Building. Something about a search warrant, chloroform, and Alex being arrested for murder.”
“Oh, my God! That must have just happened because I was on the phone with Gladys a little while ago and she didn’t say anything except that Deputy Hickman wasn’t in earshot.”
Cammy rolled her eyes. “He wasn’t in earshot because he was out making an arrest. According to Godfrey, the Ontario County Sheriff’s Office, along with the Geneva Police Department, entered the entomology lab late yesterday evening. They brought a forensic team along and confiscated a vial of chloroform that was found in a foam cooler in Alex’s office. They also believe they found the original brown glass bottle in the office as well.”
“So what? Those guys use all sorts of chemicals to kill bugs and collect specimens. Godfrey once bored me to death telling me why he preferred ethyl acetate over chloroform when he collected moths because the acetate didn’t allow the moth’s stomach to separate from the body or something like that.”
“That may be the case, but according to Godfrey, chloroform was used to kill Vance. Or to render him unconscious so he could be suffocated. Godfrey tried to reiterate what Alex told him, but he was talking a mile a minute and I didn’t get everything except that he wanted you to call his cell right away.”
I raced over to the cash register, grabbed a piece of scrap paper and the nearest pen I could find. Lizzie, who was entering something on the computer, jumped back as if I was about to strike her.
“Sorry,” I said. “Do whatever it is you’re doing.”
“Preparing an invoice. Is everything all right?”
