by J. C. Eaton
“Not soil. Aargh. I should have made myself clearer. Sorry. I’m so wacked-out with all of this craziness going on. Hortensia Vermeulen is a guest at Geneva on the Lake. She’s also a world-renowned horticulturalist from Belgium. But here’s the thing. I think she might be the auburn-haired woman you saw breaking up the fracas between Stanislav and the foreign guy. And the same woman who was responsible for the injury above Earvin’s eye. You’ve got to see her up close and personal. I only caught a quick look at her the day she unnerved Earvin in our winery. So, I need you to tell me if Hortensia Vermeulen is the same woman. I need to be absolutely sure. The only way we’ll know is by going to that lecture. Don’t worry. I’ve got tickets.”
“Next time you get tickets, make it for a Bon Jovi concert.”
“So you’ll go with me?”
“Oh, I suppose. Are you really sure she could be the woman in question? I mean, what would a world-famous horticulturalist have to do with chocolatiers? Other than the fact they’re famous, too.”
“I keep asking myself the same question. Hortensia’s lecture starts at ten at Albright Auditorium. I’ll pick you up at nine fifteen so we’ll have enough time to find parking.”
The second I ended my call with Stephanie, I returned to the tasting room. Our guests were standing around the tasting tables, sampling chocolate confections with our Cabernet Sauvignon. And this time no one seemed to be worried about the wineglasses. Oddly enough, Earvin was milling around, too. From table to table. Talking with our patrons. If I didn’t know any better, I would have sworn he was running for office and trying to solicit votes. Too bad he couldn’t do the same thing at the competition. Given his demeanor and the way in which our guests were ogling him, it was as if he was an entirely different person than the one I’d gotten to know.
“Earvin seems to be in high spirits,” Cammy whispered when I approached her table.
I glanced his way and narrowed my eyes to get a better look. “As long as those high spirits don’t involve any questionable substances, we’ll be fine.”
To be on the safe side, I moseyed over to Glenda’s table and pulled her aside. “You didn’t give Earvin anything to eat or drink, did you?”
Glenda brushed a strand of her now blueish-mauve hair from her forehead. “Noo… but I did substitute that generic soap we have in our kitchen with my special calming cream soap. Aromatherapy works wonders. Earvin washed up in the sink before putting on food prep gloves.”
“What’s in the calming cream?”
“Lavender and oatmeal. Very safe. Very soothing.”
I doubted the hand soap Earvin used was somehow responsible for his change in mood, but thankfully, his behavior didn’t set off any alarms. Unlike Allete’s. By now, the sheriff’s department had sent someone to Rosalee’s winery, and I hoped it wasn’t Deputy Hickman because Allete would be camping out in Rosalee’s restroom for sure.
“Good to know.”
Next, I headed for the front door, where Lizzie was guarding the cash register. “Hey, Lizzie, please call the Grey Egret and let them know everything went well with Earvin. Don and Theo are probably wondering how it went, especially since Earvin’s going to be at their winery this afternoon.”
“Of course.”
“Oh, and tell Cammy I’m going over to Terrace Wineries.”
“Uh-oh. I knew it was trouble when Rosalee called. Anything I can do?”
“Follow the Nancy Drew Handbook and we’ll be fine.”
With that, I trounced out the door and headed up the hill to get my car. Minutes later, I pulled into the Terrace Wineries’ parking lot. Sure enough, an official Yates County Sheriff’s vehicle was parked directly in front of the building. Yep, nothing said “Come sample our wines” like an official sheriff’s car.
Walking into Terrace Wineries, the set-up for the chocolate demonstration looked like ours, with circular seating and a large table. The utensils, machinery, and bowls seemed to compete with each other for space. Bits of chocolate flakes dotted the white tablecloth and a partially opened block of chocolate, with its unfolded white wrapper, stood off to the side by the tempering machine. I imagined it was “the death threat chocolate.”
The customers who were seated in the demonstration area, and who most likely witnessed Allete’s impromptu exit, were busy tapping on their cell phones or chatting with each other.
Rosalee was nowhere in sight. When I asked her employee at their cash register where I could find her, she pointed to the kitchen on my left. “She’s talking with a deputy in there. That’s why the door’s closed. Say, you look familiar.”
“I’m Norrie Ellington from Two Witches across the road.”
“Oh, I should have recognized you from the last time you were here. You found a clue to Roy Wilkes’s murder, didn’t you? Rosalee was really impressed.”
“Actually, one of your customers found it and gave it to me but—”
I never got to finish my sentence because in that instant, Deputy Hickman came barreling out of the kitchen and brushed past me to the corridor where the restrooms were located. He pounded on both the ladies’ and the men’s room doors. Then he shouted, “Miss Barrineau, you must vacate the restroom immediately. Do not force me to come inside and drag you out.”
Then, it dawned on him it was me that he had all but collided with, and he turned. “I should have known I’d find you here, Miss Ellington. Do you have some sort of radar that points you in the direction of these kinds of disturbances?”
I shook my head and shrugged. “I have the same news apps as everyone else.”
He then pounded on the ladies’ room door and repeated his warning to Allete.
Rosalee, who was standing a few feet away, took a step or two closer and gave him a nudge with her elbow. “It won’t get her out, Gary. Try another tactic and don’t you dare go in there and break down one of my stalls.”
Emma stood by the demonstration table but didn’t make a move. So much for offering her services to Rosalee. I should have realized, that with a key piece of evidence on the table, it would be impossible to conduct a demonstration. I walked over to Emma and spun her around so we weren’t facing the audience.
“Sorry. Looks like we’re stuck until Deputy Hickman decides what to do with the chocolate.”
Emma bit her lip. “I don’t think he knows what to do with Allete. Everyone in this room can hear him. It’s awful.”
Sure enough, Deputy Hickman’s voice got louder by the minute. Not wanting to have Rosalee’s wine and chocolate pairing turn into a total bust, I asked one of her workers where I could find the tasting room manager.
“You’re looking at her. Letty Grebbins. I’ve been the tasting room manager here for over nine years and this is a first.” Letty was about a foot shorter than me and at least fifteen or twenty years older. She was heavyset, with short brown hair and gray roots that needed to be touched up.
I extended my hand. “Norrie Ellington. Two Witches. Nice to meet you. Listen, I sent our bistro worker, Emma, over here to do the demo because Rosalee called and well, we’ve been through this kind of disaster before with our chocolatier. Not locked up in the restroom, but splitsville, if you know what I mean. Anyway, Emma can’t do the demo because the threatening evidence is on the table.”
Letty rubbed her temples. “Any suggestions?”
“Sure. Send the ticket holders to the sampling tables for the wine pairings. Once those deputies remove the evidence and give you an ‘all clear,’ Emma can do the demo instead of Allete.”
Letty grabbed my wrist and gave it a squeeze. “I can’t thank you enough.” She fluffed her hair, puffed out her chest, and addressed the ticket holders. “Please move to the tasting room tables. I know it’s a backwards version of the usual program, but we’ve had some unforeseen circumstances.”
As far as the winery guests knew, Allete had some sort of breakd
own or meltdown. They had no idea about the death threat in the chocolate, according to Rosalee. No wonder there was no hysteria, only the sound of chairs moving on wooden floors coupled with people grumbling.
The room noise made it impossible for me to hear any conversations between Deputy Hickman and Rosalee in the corridor by the restrooms. Any second now, Deputy Hickman would be in that ladies’ room and Allete would be screaming her lungs out. I did the only thing that popped into my head. I charged for the ladies’ room, elbowing both Deputy Hickman and Rosalee as I yelled, “Can’t hold it! Sorry!”
Once inside, I locked the door and bent down to locate Allete’s feet so I’d know which stall she was in. No time to admire her fancy leather ankle boots. I rapped on the stall and said, “It’s Norrie Ellington from Two Witches. If you don’t want our county’s lead deputy to storm in here and kick your door down, you need to pull yourself together and get out of there.”
Her response was a series of sobs, so I repeated myself. This time louder. My Spanish teacher once told the class that getting louder while trying to explain something to someone who didn’t speak your language fluently was the worst possible thing to do. Then again, Allete seemed pretty conversant with English, so I yelled again. This time she listened.
She opened the door and peered out. “Whoever carved that message knew how to work the chocolate. It was no amateur.”
Chapter 25
“Work the chocolate?” I asked. “I don’t understand.”
Allete exited from the stall and walked to the sink, where she splashed water on her face. She then took a paper towel and dabbed her cheeks. “Whoever wrote that message knew how to use sculpting tools to carve the letters so they were not only precise but aesthetically pleasing.”
How thoughtful. An aesthetically pleasing death threat.
“Are you saying it was one of your competitors?”
“Oui.” She paused for a moment. “Earvin Roels must have found a way to do that heinous thing. I’m positive he murdered his uncle and now wishes to do away with the rest of his competition.”
“And Stanislav?” I ventured.
“Absolutely inconceivable.”
“Okay, fine. Let’s consider Earvin for a moment. How could he possibly get over here to write the message in the chocolate without being seen, and then show up on time for his presentation at Two Witches?”
Allete squeezed the paper towel she was holding and then tossed it in the small trash basket by the sink. “Don’t you understand? He could have done it any time. Those chocolate blocks are kept in Geneva on the Lake’s kitchen and brought to the wineries on the morning of the presentation. Each block is marked for a specific winery. He could have snuck into their kitchen last night.”
A strange thought crossed my mind. Could handwriting experts recognize carved letters in chocolate? Everyone had a certain style. A certain “give away.”
“If that’s true,” I said, “the forensics team will know. They’ll discover who’s behind the threat and you won’t have to worry.” What the heck am I saying?
“I’m not worried about the threat. I am worried the killer will make good of it.”
Suddenly, there was a loud pounding on the door. “Miss Ellington! Miss Barrineau! I must insist you vacate the restroom at once.”
“Look, Allete,” I said. “You’re perfectly safe. Don’t call more attention to the problem. All those deputies want to do is take a statement from you. Then you can continue your demonstration. It’s your reputation, you know.”
Allete shook her head. “Isn’t it too late for my presentation?”
“No. The patrons are doing the wine and chocolate pairing first. Plenty of time.”
I unlocked the restroom door and we stepped out. I introduced Allete to Deputy Hickman and he, along with Rosalee, escorted her to the kitchen, but not before the deputy motioned to the latest arrival from the Yates County Sheriff’s Department. It was a guy from their forensics team and I swore his official jacket, with the letters FORENSIC spelled out on the back, looked at least two sizes too large.
“You’ll see the evidence, Hal,” Deputy Hickman said. “Just don’t eat it.”
“I’m on my way back to the tasting room,” I said. “I can show Hal where the chocolate death threat is.”
“Thanks, Norrie,” Rosalee replied, but I swore I heard Grizzly Gary groan.
Hal followed me to the demonstration table, where Emma stood guard like a sentinel. The winery guests were still sampling the chocolates that Terrace Wineries paired with their Pinot Noir. Everything seemed to be going well, considering the main feature was on hold for a few more minutes.
“There’s the block chocolate with the message on it,” I whispered to the forensics deputy.
He, in turn, responded in a louder voice. “Thanks. Once I’m done taking photos of the scene, I’ll process it for the lab and tell them to put a priority on it. That chocolate could very well have been poisoned.”
Oh no. Not the word “poison.”
The word “poison” carried through the room faster than a seventh-grade rumor.
Within seconds, someone shouted, “The chocolate’s been poisoned.”
It was no surprise that the demo table was besieged by guests demanding to know what was going on. Rosalee heard the commotion from the kitchen and raced to the room, with Deputy Hickman at her heels.
There was a flurry of cell phone snapshots that would most likely go viral.
“No one’s been poisoned,” Deputy Hickman shouted. “Repeat. No one has been poisoned. Remain calm.”
I don’t know about anyone else, but when I heard the words, “Remain calm,” I got the opposite effect. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one. More cell phone snapshots, only this time accompanied by threats of lawsuits and demands by at least four people to be taken to the hospital.
It took a full ten minutes for Deputy Hickman and forensic deputy, Hal, with the big mouth, to get the crowd under control.
“We’re investigating a threat,” Hickman bellowed. “Nothing more. A written threat on a block of chocolate. No different than someone scrawling a message on a bathroom door. Checking for poison is simply a protocol.”
Then, for some inexplicable reason, I added my two cents. “No one ate that chocolate. The wrapper is still underneath it.”
“What about the chocolates we’ve eaten?” a woman wearing a long-sleeved top and faux fur jacket asked.
“Those chocolates were prepared early this morning at Geneva on the Lake,” I said. “The different varieties were delivered to the other wineries, but they all used the same ingredients. There have been no problems.”
To make my point clear, I walked over to one of Rosalee’s tasting tables, snatched a thumb-sized chocolate from the table, and popped it into my mouth. “Yum. Puts those store-bought ones to shame.”
A few guests chuckled, and it seemed as if the tension-filled atmosphere dissipated.
Then Rosalee spoke in a slow, commanding voice. “Thank you for your patience and understanding. Like live theater performances, we cannot anticipate what may happen. We can only react. Please enjoy your wine pairings. The esteemed Allete Barrineau will conduct her demonstration in five minutes.”
As Rosalee worked the crowd, Emma approached me. “Do I need to hang around here? I think Allete’s got it under control. Look, she’s already organizing the demo table.”
“You’re right. Let’s sneak out of here before Deputy Hickman decides he wants a statement from me.”
I tapped Rosalee on the shoulder and told her I was heading out.
“I owe you, Norrie. Thanks for coming to our rescue.”
“About coming to the rescue, I was going to ask if you could come to mine. Our wineries all received two tickets for Saturday’s competition and I told Godfrey Klein he could be my plus one. That was before Bradley Ja
mison called to tell me he’d be back from Yonkers and was looking forward to attending. So, um, if you’re not planning on taking your sister, Marilyn, do you mind if I use your extra ticket for Bradley?”
“Take Marilyn? She’d give all of us indigestion. You can give my extra ticket to that young whippersnapper, but don’t expect me to entertain him.”
I tried not to laugh. When Rosalee was accused of murder last year and her attorney couldn’t meet with her right away, he sent his associate, Bradley. One look at him and Rosalee told everyone she wasn’t about to have “someone who just fell off the turnip truck” representing her.
“Thanks, Rosalee. I’ll do my best to keep him out of your hair.”
“It won’t be my hair you need to worry about. Better keep those two beaus at arm’s distance.”
Aargh. Was it really becoming obvious about Godfrey? “Honestly, I’ll be glad when the chocolate event is over.”
Then Rosalee whispered, “The next time the wine association comes up with an idea like this, I’m going to ask for a vote of no confidence.”
* * * *
Two Witches was a scene of tranquility when Emma and I returned to the tasting room. Fred made me a grilled cheese and bacon sandwich and, once I’d devoured it, I headed back to the house to finish that screenplay. If I could concentrate. The way things were going, it wouldn’t surprise me if Renee pushed the deadline up by another few days so she could make the most of Guadalupe’s beaches. I cringed. What was I going to hand her? A hodgepodge of clichéd dialogue? She’d be begging Conrad Blyth to return.
Conrad wrote wonderful Amish mystery screenplays but got kicked to the curb six months ago. I kept a poster on the wall reminding me not to wind up in his shoes.
The last three days had been nightmarish, not to mention the day before that when Jules Leurant was found dead in the snow. Now Allete was convinced Earvin was the killer, Earvin was convinced it was Stanislav, and I was bringing new players into the game with the auburn-haired woman whom I believed to be Belgium’s noted horticulturalist, Hortensia Vermeulen. I really needed to slow down and digest the events that were clogging my mind and preventing me from focusing on my screenplay.
