by J. C. Eaton
Fred pulled his long ponytail tighter. “True, but that didn’t involve blood. Whoever killed Jules had to be crafty and deliberate. That doesn’t fit with the description of the woman those guys gave.”
“Maybe she’s both—clever and unhinged. Then again, Theo and Don would tell me I’m jumping to conclusions. Anyway, the parking lot’s only a few yards away, the wind has stopped howling, and I could use some fresh air after gobbling down that tasty sandwich.”
“If you find anything, let me know.”
I smiled, thanked him, and darted out the door before I got tied up chatting with Cammy, Lizzie, or, worse yet, Glenda. She’d probably want to cast a purifying spell on me or spray something noxious on my clothes to ward off evil doers. Yeesh.
Thankfully, no one saw me, and even if they did, it would have been impossible for them to drop what they were doing and chitchat. The chocolate event brought out lots of customers and, from what I could see in our tasting room, no one was shying away from the Cabernet Sauvignon.
Maybe I was going overboard with this little investigative jaunt of mine in the parking lot, but it wasn’t as if I was in a rush to settle down at my laptop and work. It was hard to think of romance with bodies cropping up all around me. Even with a packed tasting room, the far end of the lot only had a few cars. The vineyard crew had seen to it that the snow was removed and piled up on the sides. Only a thin white surface of snow was visible on the gravel.
For years, my father debated whether to have the lot paved. Ultimately, he decided to leave the gravel because a paved lot in winter would mean slippery surfaces and would require sanding, or worse yet, salting. The gravel counteracted the snow so the surface didn’t pose as much of a threat for walkers.
I ambled down to the far end, not really sure of what it was I was looking for. Sure enough, there were a few empty cups, a plastic bag that rolled around in the wind, and what looked like an empty candy wrapper. Too bad I wasn’t trying to solve a mystery of who went off their diet.
It was easy to see where some of the cars had been parked because the ground underneath them wasn’t as frozen as the rest of the lot. Pulling my scarf tighter, I decided to have a closer look at those spaces. If what Fred overheard was the case, it would stand to reason the altercation, or whatever the heck it was, took place in one of those spots.
Bending down, I studied the ground, hoping to find a file, a pair of scissors, or anything that would smack of a sharp object that nearly poked Earvin’s eye out. No such luck. Nothing. Zilch. If indeed the Fatal Attraction woman was holding something of the kind, she wasn’t careless enough to drop it. That kind of stuff only happened in the movies.
Fred was right. This was something Earvin needed to deal with, not me. But Earvin wasn’t going to deal with it, and the last thing we needed was another dead chocolatier. That kind of thing didn’t bode well in keeping with winery events. I kicked the gravel and watched the small pieces of rock go airborne before landing near my feet. That was the moment I saw it. Not a piece of gravel and not a sharp object, but something caught my eye because its pearly white color reflected in the late afternoon sun.
It was a button. And if I wasn’t mistaken, it looked like the same kind of pearled button on the collar of Earvin’s classy white chef’s jacket. I was about to grab it when I remembered something, fingerprints. I immediately pulled out a nasty old tissue from my pocket and used that instead to retrieve the button.
“This can’t be a coincidence,” I said minutes later as I ran through the winery, waving the old tissue in the air.
Cammy looked up from her tasting table, as did Sam, Glenda, and Roger. Only Lizzie muttered something about needing larger trash receptacles. I went straight to the bistro, where Fred was chopping up some green peppers and held the tissue under his nose.
“Please tell me you didn’t find a roach,” he whispered.
“No, a clue. Thanks to what you overheard earlier, I think we can conclude it was Earvin and that auburn-haired woman who were duking it out in our parking lot, for lack of a better explanation.” I opened the tissue and pointed to the button. “Look. It’s a pearl button. It looks exactly like the ones on the chef’s jacket Earvin wore today. Oh my gosh. Earvin! He’s probably still at the Grey Egret. I’ve got to call them and ask Theo or Don if he’s missing a button.”
Fred didn’t say a word as I grabbed my phone.
“Theo? Is that you? Is Earvin still there? Hurry! See if he’s missing a button on his chef’s jacket.”
“He’s over by the door on his cell phone. What’s going on?”
“No time to talk. Just look.”
“Aargh. Hold on.”
I hated dead air space on the phone. I never knew if the call died or what. And as much as I detested canned music while I was on hold, it was better than nothing. Unless someone had no taste in music. Then I’d take dead air space.
“Holy crap, Norrie. I couldn’t tell. He had his overcoat on.”
“Is he still on the phone?”
“Yeah.”
“Theo, you absolutely have to find a way to get that overcoat off him and check out his chef’s jacket. If he’s missing a button, I know what happened to him.”
“You’re going to owe me big time. Big time!”
Again, dead air space. This time longer.
“I got your answer but my God! We might be sued. The only thing I could think of was to accuse him of walking off with our apron. He immediately opened his overcoat and all I saw was the soiled chef’s jacket. And yes! Yes! You’ll be happy to know it’s missing the third button down. Earvin told me he left the apron on the counter. I apologized profusely. Heaven help us. We’ve got two more days with this guy.”
“If he lasts that long.”
Chapter 16
“Chances are, it is Earvin’s missing button,” Theo said. “So, what’s the big hoo-hah?”
“Okay, the courts would consider it hearsay but Fred heard customers talking about a scuffle in our parking lot. The far end of the lot. They saw that woman with the auburn hair and, thanks to my little discovery, we now know who she was scuffling with. It had to be our chocolatier. Face it, the woman probably had a small knife on her or maybe a sharp manicuring tool. Those things can be deadly. Trust me.”
“Unless Earvin wants to press charges, there’s nothing you can do. Drop it.”
“I’ll tell you what I need to do. What we need to do. We need to find out once and for all if Hortensia Vermeulen is the same woman.”
Theo let out a groan that seemed to go on indefinitely. “And I suppose this little escapade of yours involves more snooping around the hotel?”
“We don’t have to snoop. We can just sit in their ostentatious bar near the lobby tonight and see if she comes in. Chances are the bartender knows her by name. They always do when it comes to important guests. And she has to be important if she’s staying in the high-priced-over-the-top Chapel.”
“Norrie, we can’t go because—”
“Theo, it’s important. That woman’s business with Earvin might have been the reason Jules Leurant was murdered.”
“And if you find out it’s the same woman? Then what?”
“Okay, here’s where it gets a tad dicey.”
“Oh no.”
I switched the phone to my other ear and rolled my neck. “If it is her, we’ve got to find out if she’s got a prescription for Ambien in her room. Right now, she’s not a suspect as far as those deputies are concerned. From what little I could gather from Grizzly Gary, they’re looking at the other chocolatiers as well as poor Stephanie.”
“So, you plan on doing what? Getting into her room? Good thing you’re dating a lawyer. You’ll need him.”
“Bradley’s out of town and I won’t need a lawyer. Not if I’m careful. The night cleaning crew is different than the daytime one. I won’t pretend to be
Hortensia. I’ll tell whoever’s working in that part of the hotel that I paid her a visit and left my bag in her bathroom.”
“Like I said, good thing you’re dating a lawyer.”
“So, will you do it? Come over to Geneva on the Lake this evening?”
“You really don’t read your emails, do you? There’s one marked URGENT from Madeline Martinez. There’s an emergency WOW meeting at Rosalee’s tonight. Her house, not Terrace Wineries. Seven thirty. Madeline couldn’t hold it at her place because one of her kids has a scout meeting there. Anyway, you can present your little plan to them and see their reaction.”
“Oh crap. Really? An emergency WOW meeting? Why?”
“The email didn’t say. Only that it was important.”
“Ugh. At least Rosalee usually has good cookies.” For the life of me, I couldn’t imagine why we needed to hold an emergency WOW meeting right in the middle of an event that seemed to be stressing everyone out. It didn’t matter. If Hortensia Vermeulen did have business with Earvin, she wouldn’t be leaving the Finger Lakes until after the grand competition on Saturday.
By the time I got off the phone with Theo, the crowd had thinned in our tasting room. Cammy and Glenda were putting the opened bottles in their mini-fridges for tomorrow, while Sam and Roger were chatting it up with the customers at their stations.
Lizzie waved me over as soon as she spied me. “I hate it when our guests leave trash all over the place, too. Is that why you waved that tissue?”
“Huh?”
“The tissue. You came in here waving a tissue. I usually throw the trash out and not make a big deal of it.”
“It wasn’t trash. It was a clue.”
As soon as I said the word “clue,” I knew I should have kept my mouth shut. I had no choice but to tell Lizzie about my find.
“You need to be up front with that master chocolatier. Hold out that button and see what his reaction is. That’s precisely what Nancy Drew would do.”
That, and know how to spell out SOS backwards with lipstick…
I thanked Lizzie for her insights before returning to the tasting room to let Cammy know what I’d found.
“I’d stay and help you guys clean up,” I said, “but I’ve got an emergency WOW meeting tonight. Don’t ask because I don’t know why either. I haven’t had a moment to work on my own stuff and I’m petrified I’ll miss a deadline.”
Cammy raised her palm in the air and motioned for me to slow down. “It’s okay. We’re fine.”
“I’m not so sure about everyone else. Listen, if you’re going to be up late tonight, I’ll call and explain.”
“Late is any time after midnight. Remember, I get hauled into my family’s bar at all hours if someone doesn’t show up. They should rename the place Cammy’s At All Hours instead of Rosinetti’s.”
I laughed. “Thanks. Catch you later.”
Charlie was butting his food dish against the wall when I walked into the house. Yikes. Had I forgotten to feed him this morning? It seemed like days ago when I got up.
“Hang on, Charlie. Kibble’s on the way.” I poured him a giant helping and then, feeling bad that he might have gone hungry, I added a few mini pieces of Swiss cheese to the mix, along with some leftover ham. And while I wasn’t exactly starving after consuming the sandwich Fred made me, I figured I should at least have a small bite to eat in case Rosalee hadn’t gotten around to baking cookies.
Since I was more of a preparer than a cook, I made myself a grilled cheese sandwich and washed it down with a Coke. Francine would have cringed. At least the bread was organic.
The kitchen clock said five fifteen and that gave me a full hour to work on Beguiled into Love. Maybe that was what happened to Jules. Maybe that woman beguiled him because she wanted something and when he didn’t come through, or couldn’t, that was when she killed him. Of course, I’d need to find a spray bottle of Ambien in her room and even if I did, Deputy Hickman would tell me the evidence was obtained illegally and I was under arrest. Terrific.
The next hour and a half flew by and I had fifteen minutes to freshen up and get over to Rosalee’s. At least she was right across the road and, in good weather, walking distance. Not tonight, though. Too dark, too cold, and way too creepy.
My Toyota started right up and I headed directly to Rosalee’s house, after making sure I had closed the doggie door so Charlie wouldn’t be tempted to follow me as he’d done on numerous other occasions when I went out after dark.
Three vehicles were already parked in front of Rosalee’s farmhouse and I recognized all of them—Stephanie’s SUV, Catherine’s sedan, and Theo’s well-worn winery truck. Seconds later, Madeline’s white Land Rover appeared. She pulled up next to me, slammed the door of her car, and groaned. “Just what we need, a meeting tonight.”
“Um, I thought you called the meeting,” I said.
“I had no choice. Catherine was insistent. Insistent and somewhat over the edge. She wouldn’t tell me what was going on over the phone, only that we needed to meet and it had to be done right away.”
By now we were at Rosalee’s front door and I rang the bell.
A voice from inside hollered, “It’s open. We’re in the kitchen. Come on in!”
I was familiar with the layout of Rosalee’s house and walked directly into her kitchen with Madeline at my heels. Two of Rosalee’s Corgis were sprawled out in the foyer, and I could see another one under the kitchen table. As for the fourth, it was anyone’s guess.
The WOW crew was gathered around the huge oak table and everyone was talking at once. At least I was in luck. There was a huge platter of shortbread cookies smack dab in the middle. Usually only Theo attended the WOW meetings but apparently since the email said URGENT, Don was there as well.
“Help yourself to coffee,” Rosalee said. “Cups are on the counter and I made a full pot.”
I waited while Madeline poured herself a cup and then did the same. We took the last two seats at the table and muttered our hellos to everyone.
“Okay. The gang’s all here,” Don said. “Now can someone tell us what’s going on?”
Catherine picked up the napkin in front of her and fidgeted with it until she tore off a small corner. “Allete thinks her life is in danger and refuses to return to our wineries tomorrow for her planned demonstration.”
I all but jumped out of my seat. “Why? What happened? Did someone splash chocolate on her too?”
“Too?” Madeline asked. “Who got splattered with chocolate?”
Stephanie rolled her eyes, leaned into the table, and gave us a blow by blow description of what had happened to Stanislav at her winery. To hear her tell the tale, the Red Wedding from Game of Thrones paled in comparison.
“That’s horrible,” Rosalee said. “Adolescent behavior, if you ask me, but I’d hardly consider it a reason to be concerned. We get nutcases in our wineries all the time. Fortunately, it’s winter because some of them aren’t the least bit shy about removing their clothing.”
Rosalee’s comment set off a series of side conversations that finally ended when Theo said, “Let’s get back to Allete. What’s her issue?”
I looked at Catherine and noticed the napkin she had been holding was now reduced to a small pile of pieces. She took a deep breath and rubbed her hands together. “Something crawled down Allete’s arm, underneath the chef’s jacket she was wearing. It happened while she was showing the audience how to create multi-layered florets on top of chocolate ovals. It was disastrous. She shrieked and began to remove her jacket, only hers had the kind of buttons that were in two straight lines in front and the more she tried to unbutton them, the worse it got. She kept screaming in French before she was finally able to remove the jacket.”
“Then what?” Don asked.
“The jacket landed on the prep table and, in full view of our customers, a nasty-looking spi
der made its way out of the sleeve. That’s when one of our visitors shouted, ‘Is that a brown recluse spider? They’re poisonous as hell.’”
I bit my lower lip and grimaced. “I’m afraid to ask what happened next.”
Catherine hugged her arms to her chest. “One of our tasting room employees grabbed a glass and quickly covered the spider. We trapped it and moved it into a jar. I brought the damn thing with me in case any of you know if it’s dangerous. Oh, good Lord! We had the exterminator over just a few weeks ago.”
“What about Allete?” Madeline asked. “Was she bitten? Is she all right?”
Catherine gathered the small scraps of her napkin into her hand, stood, and dropped them into Rosalee’s kitchen garbage container. “No. She wasn’t bitten, but she was convinced someone put that spider into her chef’s jacket before she put it on. We tried to explain that this is a rural area and New York has lots of spiders, but she was inconsolable. Said she thought whoever murdered Jules Leurant was after her next.”
“I can get this solved in thirty seconds,” I said. “Well, not thirty seconds, but close enough. Godfrey Klein, my brother-in-law’s entomology partner at Cornell’s Experiment Station, will be able to identify that sucker in no time flat.”
Rosalee flung her hands into the air. “What are you waiting for? Pull out that cell phone of yours and make the call!”
Chapter 17
“You sure it can’t wait until tomorrow?” Godfrey asked when I got him on the line. Everyone in Rosalee’s kitchen stopped talking and listened to my part of the conversation.
“No, it’s a matter of—”
“Please don’t tell me life or death because you just told me no one got bit.”
“It’s not that, it’s worse.” I then made a pleading sound and used the word “please” at least half a dozen times. “Listen, how about if I meet you at Dunkin’ Donuts on Hamilton Street? They’re open late and it’s real bright inside. You’ll be able to get a good look at the spider. I’ll even buy you a donut.”
