Sauvigone for Good

by J. C. Eaton

  Wade spun around to look, muttered something, and, within an instant, introduced himself to France’s most famous chocolatier.

  “No sense standing around here,” I said to Catherine. “We might as well mingle. In fact, that’s a friend of mine over there. I’d better say hello.”

  I was never so happy to see Godfrey Klein as I was at that moment. Last thing I needed was to be hounded by the press, or worse yet, by Catherine.

  “This is quite the party,” Godfrey said. “I’ve been to weddings and Bar Mitzvahs that didn’t have this much food.”

  “Yep, the wine association knows how to put on a good show. Uh-oh. Speaking of which, do you see what I see?”

  Godfrey looked around. “You mean those two men near the fireplace? Doesn’t appear to be too friendly, given their body lang—Oh, my gosh! Did you see that?”

  “Hard to miss. The tall one is Stanislav Vetrov and the fussy-looking one who shoved a finger in Stanislav’s chest is Jules Leurant. Holy Cannoli. Do something, Godfrey. Go over there and introduce yourself. Tell them about insects. Anything. I can’t go over there because I already have a strained relation with Jules. You have nothing to lose.”

  Godfrey walked over to the fireplace and positioned himself between the two men. Within seconds, everyone scattered. I immediately rushed over. “What did you do? What did you say?”

  “What you asked me. I simply remarked that the Halyomorpha halys, or brown marmorated stink bug as they’re commonly known, are bound to be lurking in the cracks by the fireplace.”

  I burst out laughing until tears rolled down my cheeks.

  Just then, Theo approached. “What did I miss? It must be the only funny thing going on in this place.”

  Before Godfrey or I could answer, the sharp sound of a spoon being rattled against a glass permeated the room. Henry Speltmore, the president of the wine association, cleared his throat. “Welcome, everyone!” He went on to introduce the event, the chocolatiers, and the winery owners who were hosting them. He then bored the daylights out of all of us by dredging up the history of the wine trail.

  “My God,” Stephanie whispered as she approached us. “Will he ever shut up?”

  “Maybe one of us needs to shove a bonbon in his mouth,” Theo replied, which resulted in some chortling on the part of Godfrey and me.

  Finally, Henry stopped talking and invited everyone to enjoy the food and wine. I helped myself to a small plate of stuffed mushrooms, Swedish meatballs, and tiny puffed pastries filled with Brie while Godfrey and Theo got into a discussion about the best techniques for removing cluster flies.

  Other than the near altercation by the fireplace, the chocolatiers seemed to be behaving themselves. I figured it was because they were besieged by reporters and forced to endure all sorts of questions. I made a mental note to turn on the eleven o’clock news in case one of the cameramen happened to film me—as well as the real reason we were all here.

  At least an hour had passed, and I wondered if the snow was still falling, or if it had fizzled away as it sometimes did. I went over to one of the long windows that faced the rear of the building and glanced across the lake. It was impossible to see anything except the falling snow. Francine insisted I have an app for road conditions in Yates and Ontario counties. It came in handy at times like this.

  According to the report, the plows were working nonstop and the roads were clear and passable. Of course, they did warn about visibility. I put my iPhone away and went back to the buffet table.

  I had to say this much, the affair was animated. People enjoyed chatting it up and imbibing our wines and the mouthwatering canapes Geneva on the Lake provided. Finally, at a little past eleven, the crowd began to dissipate. Good. I could finally get home to a warm bed—complete with Charlie in it.

  I thanked Godfrey for coming to the rescue and reminded him of the culminating event at the end of the week.

  “Think I should bring up overwintering pests?” he asked.

  “Only if there’s another chance of an altercation. But somehow, I think everything will be fine. Absolutely fine.”

  It was a damned good thing I wasn’t in the psychic readings business or I’d be broke. After Godfrey left and I was on my way out the door with Don and Theo, Madeline approached us.

  “Have any of you seen Jules Leurant? No one can seem to find him. The chocolatiers were all tasting our wines last anyone knew.”

  I shrugged. “He probably got tired of the affair and went to his room. Did you check with that mealy assistant of his?”

  She nodded. “Earvin thought the same thing and even went as far as knocking on Jules’s door, but there was no answer. So, he got the house manager to unlock the door and Jules wasn’t in the room.”

  Don elbowed Theo. “Maybe Stanislav’s not the only one getting under the sheets at this party.”

  “I’m sure Jules is milling around somewhere,” I said. “It’s not like he’s going to be outside in this storm. We’re the only crazy ones.”

  Don turned to Madeline. “Norrie’s right. I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you. He’s probably around here somewhere. Maybe a long sojourn in the men’s room. That fancy food can go right through you.”

  I grimaced and pulled my winter scarf tighter around my neck. Seconds later, we were on our way home. Theo and Don followed Francine’s Subaru to our turn-off on Route 14 and signaled when they turned into their own drive. Francine insisted I use their Subaru when the winter roads were iffy. In addition to all-wheel drive, the car had four studded snow tires and chains in the trunk. I made it up the hill with no problem, considering our driveway wouldn’t be plowed until morning—when John and the vineyard crew arrived. Storm or no storm, the vineyard crews couldn’t afford to sleep in.

  Charlie refused to budge from his position on the bed, and I practically had to shove him off to the side. I pulled the quilt over my head, turned off the light on the nightstand, and burrowed under the covers. The sound of the wind rapping against the window was the only noise I heard…that is until I heard a loud pounding—at some ungodly hour in the morning. It took me at least a full minute or two to wake up and realize someone was knocking on our front door. I was positive it had to be our vineyard manager informing me of some weather-related emergency. Few people would be able to make it up our driveway unless their vehicles were equipped for Siberian winters. I threw on an old Penn Yan Mustangs sweatshirt and the sweatpants that accompanied it. Funny how those things could last for years.

  “Hold your horses,” I yelled. “I’m on my way.”

  Charlie beat me down the stairs, but instead of going to the door, he went to the kitchen and buried himself in a bowl of kibble. Figuring it was John, I flung the door open only to find myself face-to-face with Deputy Hickman.

  “Um, is there some sort of problem I should know about?” I asked.

  The snow was still coming down, and Deputy Hickman looked absolutely miserable. Large flakes of the white stuff covered his hat and eyebrows.

  “Indeed there is, Miss Ellington. Do you mind if I step inside?”

  I motioned for him to take a seat at the table. “I’m about to make myself a cup of coffee. I can pop in a K-cup for you, too. We have Green Mountain roast and some organic coffee from a country whose name I can’t pronounce.”

  “Green Mountain is fine. I’m sure you’ve surmised by now this isn’t a social call.”

  Gee, you think?

  “The grounds crew at Geneva on the Lake gets started early in the morning. They need to have the parking lots done in time for deliveries and that sort of thing.”

  “Uh-huh.” I put a mug on the Keurig, tipped open the little compartment and plopped in the pod of coffee. “Did they find a stolen car or something? All of our winery vehicles are accounted for.”

  “No, not a stolen car. A body. Face down in the snow. The coroner and the for
ensics team have been at the scene since before daybreak.”

  I caught the blue light flashing on the Keurig and pushed the start button while trying to grasp what it was he had just said. The body couldn’t belong to Theo, Don, or Godfrey because they left around the time I did. The coffee began to pour and I stood motionless. The thought that it could be one of the winery owners or winemakers gave me goose bumps.

  “Did you say ‘body?’ Whose body? What body? And what does it have to do with Two Witches Winery?”

  “That’s what we’d like to find out as well, Miss Ellington. The man was identified as Jules Leurant, one of those chocolate chefs. He was last seen tasting your winery’s Cabernet Sauvignon, and, in fact, an empty wineglass was found in his hand. The lab is testing it now.”

  So much for a little sojourn in the men’s room.

  “Dead? My God! Don’t tell me you think he was poisoned from tasting our wine. Lots of people tasted it at that event and, to the best of my knowledge, they’re still breathing.”

  “I’m not making any accusations until all evidence has been thoroughly reviewed. That’s how the Sheriff’s Department works around here. For your information, all the empty wine bottles from last night’s soiree have been confiscated by the Ontario County forensics department, who called us in to this case. The lab will test them for toxins.”

  “What makes you think he died from being poisoned? Maybe he had a heart attack or something. Did you look for gunshot wounds? Maybe someone decided the world could live without one more pompous pain in the butt.”

  As soon as I said that, I knew I should have kept my mouth shut.

  “I take it you weren’t on good terms with Mr. Leurant?”

  I handed Deputy Hickman the coffee, took out a small container of milk and pointed to the table where we keep the sugar bowl. “I wasn’t on any terms with him. I only met him this week but if you ask me—”

  “Stop. It’s too early in the day for your theories. I wanted to let you know personally about the grim discovery—since your wine was apparently the last thing to touch Jules Leurant’s lips.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “It’s been a busy morning for my department. As I mentioned, we’re working in conjunction with the Ontario County Sheriff’s Department since the venue involves our local wineries. Our team secured video footage from one of the news stations. They must keep accurate time and date information on it. It appears that Mr. Leurant tasted your wine and then hastily exited the room. He was still holding the glass.”

  “That doesn’t mean our Cabernet Sauvignon had anything to do with his death.”

  “Only time and forensic science will tell, Miss Ellington. But the footage was quite explicit. The server opened the wine bottle in front of Mr. Leurant and then poured it before securing the cork.”

  “Who else was served from that bottle? Where’s that bottle now?”

  “We’re in the process of looking into it.”

  “Well, look into everything else that touched Mr. Leurant’s lips while you’re at it. Maybe he digested some uncooked fish.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you for the coffee. Much as I’d like to stay and get out of this storm, I’ve got an investigation on my hands.”

  “Before you leave, does anyone else know about this yet? Like the president of the wine association?”

  “As far as I know, only the manager and morning staff at Geneva on the Lake. The manager insisted the other chocolate makers not be disturbed at such an early hour.”

  “Chocolatiers.”

  “What?”

  “Chocolatiers. They don’t make the chocolate. They make the confections from the chocolate.”

  “I don’t have time for a lesson in semantics. As I was saying, only the morning staff at the resort were privy to the unfortunate discovery. No doubt the news station that shared the prior night’s video with us will realize something’s amiss, but that’s neither here nor there. Needless to say, we’ll need to interview everyone who attended that party. Expect to hear from my office later today.”

  “Um, I hate to say this, but news like this usually hits the scanners and it’s probably all over the county by now.”

  Deputy Hickman groaned. “Last thing we need is a media circus. Maybe they’ll hold off a bit and focus on the storm.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, I sort of just got up when you knocked on the door. How bad a storm is it? Or was it? Are the roads closed?”

  “The roads are being cleared and schools in Yates and Ontario Counties are on a two-hour delay. Please don’t tell me you intend to drive anywhere. And certainly not to the crime scene.”

  “Couldn’t you just refer to it as the death scene until we know for sure it was foul play?”

  “Preliminary indications point to a suspicious death. And there’s more.”

  Now what?

  “The wineglass wasn’t the only thing found on Mr. Leurant’s person. He had a handwritten list of the six featured wineries for this so-called chocolate pairing.”

  “And?”

  “Only your winery’s name had a heavy black line drawn through it. Any idea why?”

  I shrugged. “People do that all the time with their shopping lists.”

  Deputy Hickman took a long swallow of coffee and then walked to the door. “I don’t think Mr. Leurant was in the market for purchasing wine.”

  Chapter 6

  Charlie darted out after the deputy and dove into the snow. At least someone enjoyed what looked to be at least two feet of the white stuff. The winds weren’t blowing and the snowflakes were tapering off. Unless blowing and drifting were in the forecast, I expected to see the yellow school buses. Poor disappointed kids. A delay and not a snow day.

  I stood by the front window and watched as Grizzly Gary, aka Deputy Hickman, made his way down our driveway. Headlight beams from another vehicle were clearly visible, and it took a moment for me to realize it was one of our vineyard workers with the snowplow. For a brief instant, I wasn’t sure who to call first. Theo and Don definitely needed to know about Jules. It was only fair to tell Godfrey—rather than have him find out when he turned on the news or, worse yet, pushed some app on his phone.

  While I mulled over my decision, Charlie returned via his doggie door and shook a ton of the white stuff all over the floor before sniffing at the uneaten kibble in his bowl. I was about to pour a tad more into the dish when the phone rang.

  “Hey, Norrie. It’s Theo. I tried your cell phone but it went to voice mail. Turn that thing on, will you? Glad you have a landline. Anyway, is everything all right? Don went outside to see how much snow we got and he saw the sheriff’s car leaving your place. What’s going on?”

  “I was about to call you. Jules Leurant was found dead in the snow. The sheriff’s department thinks our winery might have had something to do with it.”

  “What? Has Hickman lost his senses? Why?” Theo asked.

  “Apparently Jules’s body was found face down in the snow by the resort’s grounds crew when they went to clear the parking lot.”

  “What does that have to do with Two Witches?”

  “Jules was holding an empty wineglass and, according to some video footage, the last wine he tasted was ours. Cabernet Sauvignon to be exact.”

  “So, they think he was poisoned?”

  “They don’t know. The lab has to check it out. But even if he was, that doesn’t mean we had anything to do with it. Anyone could have monkeyed with it. It’s not as if Jules Leurant was on terrific terms with his competitors. Not to mention his nephew. From what I witnessed, he treated that guy as if he was a manservant, not his assistant.”

  “Boy, talk about jumping to conclusions. Big deal. An empty wineglass.”

  “Um, they also found a piece of paper in the guy’s pocket with all our winery names written
on it. Two Witches was crossed off in bold ink, according to Deputy Hickman.”

  “Still nothing conclusive. So now what?”

  “Expect to be interviewed. Or should I say grilled by Yates County’s finest. They’re working with the Ontario County Sheriffs on this case.”

  “Does anyone else know about this?”

  “Only the manager at Geneva on the Lake and the morning staff. I imagine the liaison for the sheriffs’ departments will be contacting Henry Speltmore from the wine association for a list of attendees and their guests. Oh blast! The wine association. What’s going to happen now with the chocolate and wine festival? And that competition?”

  “I’ll tell you what’s going to happen. Earvin Roels will need to put on his big boy pants and step up to the plate. He must know how to do something.”

  “Maybe he did. Maybe that something was murder his boss-slash-uncle. I’ve heard of things like that.”

  “Yeah, well, what about Allete and Stanislav? They had motive if ever there was a motive. With Jules out of the picture, one of them will most definitely win the competition.”

  “Unless the companies involved decide to cancel it. What a mess. We’d better hope Earvin is up to the task. Meanwhile, I don’t intend to wait it out until the sheriff’s department gets its act together.”

  “Uh-oh. What are you saying?”

  “The roads will be clear in less than an hour. At which time I intend to do a little fact-finding on my own.”

  “I doubt the hotel manager will want to share any info with you. Besides, he’s probably under a gag order from Hickman.”

  “I’m not talking about the hotel manager. I plan to see what the kitchen staff may know. I’ll go in under the guise of picking up our unused wine bottles. I’ll also try to find out who the servers were and see if I can dredge anything up from them.”

  “That place is going to be crawling with deputies.”

  “Maybe you should come with me. You know, like a distraction,” I said to Theo.