A Riesling to Die

by J. C. Eaton

  At least I didn’t have to concern myself about dinner. Don made us an incredible mushroom and feta cheese omelet with a side salad of tossed greens, crotons and walnuts. It beat the hell out of peanut butter and jelly.

  “I guess your winery will be next.” I washed down the last of my omelet. “I’m so sorry. I hope those deputies don’t get too long-winded with their questioning.”

  “Nothing to be sorry about,” Theo said. “Elsbeth’s body could’ve been dumped anywhere. Lucky we didn’t find her on our front porch.” Then he paused. “They do think she was dumped, don’t they?”

  “The deputy was kind of noncommittal but yeah, that’s the impression I got. And the niece. I asked him about the niece. You know, she could be a suspect. Domestic violence and all that.”

  Theo wiped a few crouton crumbs from his mouth. “What about the niece?”

  “That’s just it. The deputy seemed perplexed about her. According to him, the woman went through more emotions than a daytime soap opera star. Cried. Stoic. Sobbed. Calm. You name it.”

  Theo and Don were silent. For a few seconds anyway.

  Then Don spoke. “People are known to go through all kinds of emotions when tragedy strikes, but usually not at once. Think she was giving a performance?”

  “I’m about to find out.”

  That’s when I shared my little plan with them about the sleuthing I intended to do.

  “Be careful, Norrie,” Don said. “And don’t leave yourself alone with anyone you suspect. Especially the niece. It’s no secret she spent time in prison. Maybe she was in cahoots with a violent cellmate.”

  Theo let out a groan. “For crying out loud, the niece served a short sentence for insider trading, not bludgeoning people to death.”

  I let out a quick laugh. “Still, it’s a good place to start. But I’ll wait a day or so. Maybe I’ll talk with the women from that winery group of Francine’s. See what they know. Oh, before I forget, she and Jason are fine. I got an e-mail. They’re on their way to a rainforest in some mountain range.”

  “That’s good news,” Don said and Theo nodded. “Jason was ecstatic when that grant came through.” Don stood up from the table and looked at the wall clock. “Hey, it’s time for the news. Let’s see if Elsbeth’s untimely demise is on the air. Leave the dishes. We’ll get them later.”

  The three of us plopped down in the living room and Don turned on the TV. A commercial for laxatives seemed to go on forever. Finally, it was back to Channel 13 with the anchor announcing they had a series of breaking news. “A string of burglaries in Brighton, a water main break in Fairport and a grim discovery at one of our local wineries are all on the line-up this evening. We begin with Brighton.”

  We listened halfheartedly to the first two stories then perked up when Two Witches Winery was mentioned.

  “Oh no,” I said. “They named the winery. Why did they name the winery? This stinks.”

  The anchor had the same information we already had, so there really wasn’t anything new to glean from the story. Except one little tidbit. They were able to find out the approximate time of death–about seven or eight hours prior to the discovery of her body. That meant the heavy object must have collided with her head between nine and ten the night before. Like hell it happened in our vineyard. It was pitch black out there at that time of night.

  It would be darn near impossible to locate a big rock or a heavy chunk of wood in the dark. Sure, the winery buildings all had motion sensor devices for their doors and windows, but not the vineyard, or the house, for that matter. And there was no full moon. Or partial moon. Only a sliver.

  “She was dumped,” I announced. “Someone had to have been pretty familiar with the logging roads in the woods behind the vineyard. It’s the only way they could’ve gotten the body there. Those dirt roads open up to two adjoining roads—Billsburrow and Rock Stream. Whoever did that wouldn’t have been stupid enough to drive straight up our road. They wouldn’t risk being seen or heard. But on a backroad…anything’s possible.”

  “That flashlight you thought was a poacher the other night…” Don said. “Maybe it wasn’t a poacher and maybe whoever it was, came there more than one night.”

  “I used to know those woods pretty well,” I said. “What I should do is—”

  “Call the deputy sheriff and tell him. They’ll probably be scoping out the woods anyway,” Theo said. “I wouldn’t take a chance going in there if I were you.”

  “I wouldn’t go alone. I’d take Charlie with me. He’s in and out of those woods all the time, except during hunting season when they keep him in a fenced-in area.”

  “Charlie’s a hound. Not much protection. Look, if you insist on traipsing through the woods, one of us will go with you, won’t we, Don?”

  “Huh? What?”

  “I’m serious, Norrie,” Theo said. “For all you know, whoever killed Elsbeth might still be wandering around the woods. You know what they say about criminals going back to the scene of the crime.”

  “I don’t think the woods are the scene. More like the trade route.”

  This time Don spoke up. “Scene, trade route, whatever. Don’t go alone. Promise?”

  I let out a long sigh. “You’re worse than Francine.”

  My head was spinning when it hit the pillow that night. I was so tired I barely noticed Charlie’s weight as he made himself comfortable on my legs. I was pretty certain Francine didn’t allow him in their bed, but Francine wasn’t alone in the house with a murderer on the loose.

  * * * *

  The next morning, I poured a cup of kibble for the dog and forced myself to concentrate on cranking out that screenplay before I ate breakfast. My stomach grumbled for three hours but I ignored it. The only reward I allowed myself was a cup of coffee. At a little past ten, I rinsed off, threw on some clean clothes and walked to the tasting room. My culinary skills were no match for Fred’s paninis.

  Glenda rushed over to me the second I walked in the door. The red lipstick and hoop earrings were the same, but her hair looked different and I found myself unable to stop staring at her. “Um, new hairdo?”

  “Do you like it? I think the mauve and purple highlights add some gaiety to the summer season. Don’t you?”

  “Well, sure. Very nice. Very summery.”

  Sam was serving a handful of customers, along with Roger. He waved when he saw Glenda and me talking.

  “It’s been pretty steady since I got here,” Glenda said. “My group left a few minutes ago. Cammy called last night and told me your plan. I’m all in. And I mean, all in. I’ve got a Ouija board at home we can use to conjure up Elsbeth. Of course, that wicked old bat will probably ignore us, even in the other realm.”

  Is she serious? “That’s not exactly what I had in mind. More like listening to the conversations around here from our customers to see if they drop any clues.”

  “Oh, that. Sure, we can do that, but let’s not be too hasty in brushing off the idea of a séance. You do realize the dead are more likely to communicate when they first cross over, right?”

  I did at least two mental eye rolls. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Did we know Glenda was so weird when we hired her? “Right now, let’s concentrate on the living, okay?”

  “If that’s what you’d like. Cammy said the sheriff’s department will be sending deputies to question us.” She grabbed my wrist and held it. “Don’t worry. I won’t let them in on our plan.”

  “It’s not really much of a plan, but good. No need for them to know.”

  “Have you spoken to Lizzie yet? Because she already has a plan. Oh look! Here she comes now. She went into the kitchen to get something to drink.”

  Before I could respond, Lizzie put her glass of juice by the cash register and waved me over. At that precise instant, the door opened and two couples walked in.

  “That’s my
cue,” Glenda said. “I’ll chat with you later. And keep an open mind. Restless spirits tend to be very communicative.” She walked to her spot at the tasting room table and I made a beeline for the cash register.

  “Good morning,” Lizzie said. “I was hoping I’d see you. Got the word from Cammy last night. Not to worry. Do you know I’ve read all the Nancy Drew books and the official handbook? I can even tap out Morse Code with my heels. That is, if I wear them.”

  Oh my God! First the séance, now this. Who on earth did we hire? “That’s uh, wonderful. It’ll be a great help.”

  “I thought so, too. Tell me, how do you propose to start the sleuthing?”

  I told her the same thing as Glenda–simple snooping and listening in the tasting room.

  “You’ll need a better plan than that. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out Elsbeth had enemies. We simply need to know who despised her enough to kill her. Or…who was after something. Her money…her property. Maybe that niece of hers. I’d start there if I were you.”

  “Actually, I was planning on visiting the niece but I thought I should wait a while to let her get over the initial shock.”

  “No, no. That’s too long. If she’s guilty, it’ll give her time to come up with an alibi. Go now while the body’s still warm. So to speak.”

  I hated to say it, but Lizzie had a point. If that niece killed her aunt, she might be more likely to let it slip while conversing with a pleasant, nonthreatening neighbor than the grizzly old deputy.

  “You may be right. Meantime, keep your ears open.”

  “Always,” Lizzie said.

  I left the tasting room area and went straight to the bistro. A few customers were ordering sandwiches but the second Fred saw me, he said, “Same sandwich as before?” and I nodded vigorously. Less than ten minutes later, I was savoring the blend of bacon and avocado and washing it down with iced tea.

  Other than the fact Elsbeth’s niece served time for insider trading, I knew very little about her. Including her name. I couldn’t even do a simple Google search. Instead, I had Fred wrap up two giant cranberry scones and a chocolate croissant. I hesitated about bringing a bottle of wine to the niece for fear she might be a teetotaler or a recent inductee to AA.

  Keeping a wide berth from Alvin, I went back to the house, got in my car and drove the short distance to Peaceful Pines Bed and Breakfast. The white and blue cottage reminded me of something out of a fairy tale. There was a white picket fence, lots of annuals and daylilies and, of course, pine trees that framed the recently painted building.

  Two cars were parked out in front, both with out-of-state plates. Within seconds, a twenty-something couple emerged from the house and walked to the car with the Pennsylvania plates.

  “Hi!” the woman said, brushing the blond bangs from her eyes. “Are you visiting the Finger Lakes, too?”

  “No. I’m a neighbor. From Two Witches Winery on the next hill over. If you’re doing wine tasting, please stop by. Oh, and don’t get too close to the big goat in front. He’s friendly but has some bad habits.”

  “Sounds like fun,” she said. “We’ll do that. Won’t we, Seth?”

  The guy grunted and the blonde continued, “My boyfriend and I are here until Tuesday. We got in really late Friday night. We reserved the room online and pre-paid so they held our reservation.”

  Late Friday night. After dark. And well after the proprietress’ body had been removed from our vineyard. I caught a quick breath and smiled. “Who was working here that night?”

  “Just the couple who own the place. Or manage it. We’re not sure. Like I said, we did everything online. They were nice enough to leave apples, cheese and breads for us in our room, and breakfast the following morning was wonderful—lemon-filled French toast with blueberry sauce. Today was amazing, too. Maple-flavored bacon and eggs. Those two really have their act together.”

  Those two? What two? And she said couple. What couple? I thought it was Elsbeth and that niece of hers.

  “Are they both inside now?”

  The blonde shook her head. “Only the young woman. Yvonne. She’s a terrific cook.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard that. I really don’t know her. In fact, I came by to say hello. I grew up here but I’ve been away for a few years.”

  “Come on, Cheyanne,” the guy said. “The wineries will close by the time you get a move on.”

  “I’m sorry if I’ve kept you. Enjoy the wineries. It’s a great day to be out and about.”

  I felt as if I was blubbering and, truth be known, I was. I desperately wanted to get a description of “the other half of the couple,” but it was too late. Cheyanne and her grumpy other half got in their car and sped off. I stood in front of the house for a few minutes trying to decide on my approach. Finally, I gave up and walked in, fresh pastries in my hand.

  “Hello!” I shouted. “Good morning!” I stepped inside a cozy living room, complete with a stone hearth, floral couches and lots of tourist guides on the coffee table. A small bouquet of white mini-carnations and purple asters was the centerpiece. The vase, wrapped in raffia, gave me the impression it was a gift, and not something the B & B had purchased. And, given the timing, not a sympathy arrangement.

  I detected the faint aroma from the morning breakfast. A slender, petite woman walked into the room and paused for a moment to adjust her glasses. Dark rectangle frames. Her wavy chestnut hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, giving her the appearance of the stereotypical spinster. Hanging from her neck was a small heart-shaped pendant with the letters PY in the center. I love Penn Yan. Every wine trail gift shop sold them. Only the insert in her design allowed the letters to move. Any gimmick to sell stuff to tourists.

  “Hi! We’re filled up until Tuesday,” she said. “But you might check some of the hotels in Geneva. It’s only ten or eleven miles up the road.”

  “I’m not looking for lodging. I’m Norrie Ellington, your neighbor from Two Witches Winery. You must be Elsbeth’s niece. I came by to tell you how sorry I am about your loss.”

  I handed her the scones and croissant.

  “Thank you. I’m Yvonne. Yvonne Waters Finlay. It was a shock. An awful shock. All I’m doing is going through the motions because we have guest reservations lined up all through the fall. I can’t up and leave. Not that I have any other place to go. I’ve been living with my aunt for over a year now.”

  “I see.”

  Yvonne put the pastries on the coffee table. “Oh, this is so rude of me. I’m not thinking straight. Have a seat, won’t you? Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?”

  “No thanks. I ate a little while ago. I’m fine. So, it’s only you here?”

  “That’s right. Even though I’ve been here a year, I haven’t had time to make many acquaintances. With the shopping, cooking and cleaning, I don’t have much spare time. People don’t realize how much work it is to run a B & B.”

  “I imagine your aunt did quite a bit, too.”

  “Mainly the finances and arranging the routine maintenance and yard work. We’ve got—I mean, I’ve got, a guy from Armstrong Road who does the mowing and winter plowing.”

  Damn! How am I ever going to find out who the other person is? I can’t blurt it out like a belch.

  “Hmm, I understand. It must’ve been terribly difficult for you last night. Getting the news and all from the sheriff’s deputy and then having to be here all alone.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t alone.”

  Finally.

  “I had guests staying in all three of our rooms. Two were here and another couple arrived yesterday.”

  “So, uh, you and guests…”

  “Uh-huh. At least I wasn’t alone in an empty house. I knew there were other people in their rooms.”

  Just then the phone rang and she excused herself to walk into the kitchen. I moseyed about the living room, looking for anythin
g that could be used as the murder weapon, but all I noticed were small knickknacks and brochures. Not very likely someone was going to clock Elsbeth in the head with a Hummel figure. A black baseball cap with a red helmet logo hung on a hat rack near the door, along with a floral sun visor. They probably belonged to one of her guests.

  In the hallway past the living room, I spied a large laundry basket filled to the top. Ugh. I hated doing my own linens, let alone someone else’s. I turned away when something nagged at me. I looked at the basket again. On top of the sheets was a rumpled red bandana. Just like the ones John, Peter and the vineyard workers had in their pockets when I first saw them. With the sweat and dirt, carrying a bandana was commonplace for winery workers. I sank down on the couch and waited for Yvonne to return.

  In the background, I heard her say, “Two o’clock would be fine,” and then the thud of the receiver being returned to its cradle.

  Yvonne came back to the living room and I stood. “Well, I really should be going. I wanted to give you my condolences. Please feel free to visit us anytime or call me if you need anything.” Like a good lawyer.

  “Thanks, that’s very nice of you. It was the sheriff’s department on the line. They’re sending over another deputy for a few more questions. This is never going to end. I’ve got to make burial arrangements, meet with her attorney and get death certificates for the banks and social security. I swear, dying is a royal pain.”

  And so is murder.

  Chapter 10

  I took a few steps toward her and reached out to shake her hand. “Again, it was nice meeting you. I hope the sheriff’s department can offer you some closure on your aunt’s death.”

  “You can say it. She was murdered. I know about the blunt force trauma to the head. What I don’t understand is how her body got into your vineyard. It was your vineyard, wasn’t it? Two Witches? Honestly, my mind isn’t absorbing much of anything.”

  “Yes. Our vineyard workers discovered your aunt around sunrise when they came to work yesterday. Do you have any idea what could’ve happened?”