A Riesling to Die

by J. C. Eaton

  I called Deputy Hickman the next morning and told him what the dog had literally dragged in. He jumped all over me before I had a chance to explain, making me wonder if I had made the right decision by calling him in the first place.

  “It wasn’t as if I went traipsing all over the woods looking for evidence,” I said. “The dog discovered it. I thought you’d be pleased.”

  “The dog might’ve destroyed a crime scene, for all we know. You, your employees and your four-legged entourage need to remain clear of the woods and that patch of vineyard until we complete our investigation.”

  Four-legged entourage? What does he think? Alvin’s going to march through there? And another thing, if he thinks I’m keeping Charlie tied up, he’s bonkers.

  “Okay. Fine. Did you want to send someone over here to pick up the scarf?”

  “I’ll be there in about an hour. Will you be at the house?”

  It was almost lunchtime and I needed something more substantial than cereal.

  “I’ll be in the tasting room building.”

  “Very well. Thank you.”

  Next, I called Vanna Enterprises, hoping to make an appointment with Lucas Stilton. All I got was their answering service and I decided not to leave a message. I’d try back later.

  Glenda was serving customers and Lizzie was ringing up a sale when I walked into the tasting room. I waved at both of them and headed straight for the bistro.

  “Good morning,” Fred said. “What would you like?”

  I ordered a tuna and dill wrap with black olives, onion, lettuce and tomato.

  “What? No bacon? That’s almost sacrilegious.”

  I laughed. “I draw the line when it comes to mixing fish and meat. Unless they’re separated by a costly price tag, as in Surf and Turf.”

  “I’ll remember that. Say, Peter was looking for you earlier this morning. Thought you might be in here.”

  I shrugged. “He could’ve called me at the house. Did it sound important?”

  “If you mean was he pacing or tapping like he usually does when something’s going wrong, then no.”

  “Good. I’ll catch him later. “

  I figured John wanted to know if I had heard anything from the sheriff’s department about the release date for our vineyard and decided to send Peter on that quest. Knowing my sister’s penchant for matchmaking, it wouldn’t surprise me in the least if she’d told John about her thoughts regarding a possible fix-up. I would’ve thought she’d have given that up after a series of near disasters when we were in high school.

  I was halfway through my tuna wrap when Grizzly Gary took a seat next to me in the bistro. I heard his boots on the tile floor and knew, without looking up, it was him.

  “I’ve got the, uh, evidence with me. Hold on.”

  The deputy didn’t say a word as I fumbled through one of Francine’s canvas totes to find the small plastic bag where I had put the scarf.

  “Here you go. I’m positive it’s Elsbeth’s. I saw her wearing it, or one that looked identical to it, when I met her last week. Before she—”

  “You said your dog found this in the woods?”

  “That’s right. Last night. He ran in there after something. A skunk, actually, and came out with the scarf.”

  The deputy caught a slight whiff from the bag and recoiled. “I’ll see if the niece can identify it further before I turn it over to our lab. And please keep this information to yourself.”

  “I guess that means your team hasn’t searched the woods yet,” I said.

  “Our investigators follow a strict procedure for conducting outdoor searches. They don’t go sniffing about like hound dogs in any willy-nilly direction.”

  “But wouldn’t a hound dog make sense? I mean, they’re always following a scent to locate lost hikers or contraband, that sort of thing. Not that I’m offering up my dog, mind you. I’m just saying…”

  “This isn’t a search and rescue, nor is it a drug bust. It’s a homicide and we know what we’re doing.”

  “Good. Always good to hear.”

  I gave him one of my cutesy fake smiles and he nodded in return. I knew that was the best I was going to get. I moseyed back to the tasting room, only this time three men were at Glenda’s table tasting wine and Lizzie’s counter was free and clear.

  I was certain the men would be purchasing wine, so I hurried over to Lizzie before she got busy. “Hi! I wanted you to know I met the niece.”

  She motioned me closer and whispered, “How’d it go? I felt horrible about what I said yesterday. About you questioning her. I must’ve gotten carried away and didn’t think it through. You didn’t approach her alone, did you? That woman’s got a record, you know.”

  “It was fine. I went into the B & B. In broad daylight. She didn’t strike me as a killer, but I found out what she was really arrested for—siphoning money. Not that she told me. I got her last name and then looked it up.”

  “Siphoning money? That’s despicable. She must’ve worked for a large company or agency. By the time they go over the accounting and the records, it’s too late. I heard of a case once where some doctor’s bookkeeper opened a bank account under the name of Nancy J. Bell. She wrote out checks for herself under N.J. Bell and the doctor assumed it was for the telephone company—New Jersey Bell. Of course that was years ago before they all merged and started to do Internet transactions.”

  “That’s very interesting, but—”

  “Tell me. What was the niece like? What did you notice? What clues can we write down in our notebook?”

  “Our notebook?”

  Lizzie turned her head in both directions before bending down to pull out a small notebook from under the counter. “I always have lots of notebooks on hand. Whenever I hear something questionable regarding Elsbeth’s demise, I plan to write it down. I’ll be happy to add your findings as well.”

  She really does take this Nancy Drew stuff seriously.

  “Nothing definitive, but I have a hunch the niece is hiding something. When I did that Google search to find out about her, none of the images matched up. Not that it matters, because she is who she is, and we know she committed a white-collar crime. Still, I get the feeling the way she looks now is a cover-up.”

  “Do you think she’s a murderess as well?”

  “I didn’t get that impression, but it’s not like someone is walking around with a giant scarlet A plastered across their chest.”

  “Who do you plan to interview next?”

  “I was hoping to get an audience with Lucas Stilton from Vanna Enterprises, that mega-winery company. They’re trying to buy all of us out. And not too politely either, from what my sister told me.”

  “See whose arms they’ve already twisted. That’s what Nancy would do.”

  “I was planning on meeting with the ladies from the Women of the Wineries group. You know, pay each of them a visit on the pretense of getting better acquainted.”

  “Excellent idea. Take copious notes. You don’t happen to have good shorthand skills, do you?”

  Shorthand? I thought that went out with World War II.

  “Sorry, no. But I have an iPad.”

  “I suppose that will have to do.”

  The three men who were at Glenda’s table walked over to the cash register and I stepped aside to let them through.

  “Catch you later, Lizzie.” I tromped over to Glenda. “Hi there! I know you’ll be getting busy so Lizzie can fill you in. I met the niece.”

  “That’s it?”

  “She didn’t confess, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Did she act all spooked, as if her aunt’s tortured soul was haunting her?”

  “Not in the least.”

  Glenda looked genuinely disappointed. “The aunt’s soul must still be on our property. We really owe it to ourselves to summ
on her up before she moves on.”

  Let her move on. What am I saying? The moving truck’s been packed and she bolted out of town when that blunt object knocked her in the head. “I’m still in the note-gathering phase.”

  “Don’t tell me—Lizzie’s rubbed off on you.”

  “I suppose.”

  “That’s all right. We’ll do things your way and keep our ears open.”

  “Fine. Fine.”

  Just then, the door swung open and two middle-aged women walked in.

  “The rest of our bridge club will be here any second,” one of them said. “There’ll be six of us in all. Is that okay?”

  “It sure is!” Glenda replied.

  “I should get going,” I told her. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Remember, souls only stick around for a short time.”

  Thank God!

  I tried Vanna Enterprises again but got the same answering machine. They either filtered their calls or the receptionist had one heck of a busy schedule. I decided perhaps an impromptu visit might be the best approach and proceeded to look up their address. It was located in Penfield, a wealthy suburb of Rochester, with easy access to the airport. I rationalized that if I turned up a big zero by finding the place closed, I could always console myself at the Eastview Mall, one of Metro-Rochester’s biggest shopping centers.

  So as not to worry about it for the remainder of the day, I filled up Charlie’s food dish and changed his water before swapping my jeans for tailored slacks and my shirt for a rayon top that could pass for silk. The fifty-minute drive to Penfield was uneventful. A few county roads and the New York State Thruway.

  Vanna Enterprises was housed in an upscale office complex between an investment company and a real estate office. A red Audi and a blue BMW were the only cars parked directly in front. I added my Toyota to the lineup and proceeded to their door. No mall shopping for me. Vanna was indeed open for business, although I didn’t see any clients in their posh reception area. I did, however, notice their receptionist immediately. The flash from her crystal necklace all but blinded me.

  “Good afternoon.” Her contoured hair, a mix of light and dark blond tones, gave me the impression she spent a heck of a lot of time in a salon. “How can I help you?”

  “I’m following up on a matter that Mr. Stilton broached with our winery a few weeks ago.”

  She tapped the keyboard and stared at the computer monitor on her desk. “Did you have an appointment? If so, the date must be wrong. I do hope it’s not an error on our part.”

  “Um, no. I don’t have an appointment. Not an official one. Please give him my name. Norrie Ellington. I’m certain he’ll want to meet with me.”

  “I’m afraid that’s impossible, Miss Ellington. Mr. Stilton is out of town for a few days but his partner, Declan Roth, is in. Perhaps you’d be willing to speak with him. I’ll see if he’s available. Please make yourself comfortable. There’s bottled water on the credenza as well as coffee.”

  I took a deep breath, nodded and grabbed the seat closest to the credenza. My hands were shaking slightly and a strange panic was beginning to set in. I hadn’t rehearsed what I was going to say once I got past the receptionist. The last time I had a feeling like this was when I had a role in my high school’s production of Auntie Mame and had to be cued three times before I remembered my lines. Suddenly I thought of Lizzie and Nancy Drew. The panic began to subside and I was able to swallow some bottled water without choking. That was the moment Declan Roth stepped out of his office and walked toward me.

  He was an older gentleman, late forties perhaps or early fifties. Impeccably dressed in dark blue pants with a light blue shirt and geometric tie. His dark brown hair had slight hints of gray but it made him look even more distinguished.

  “Miss Ellington? Declan Roth. A pleasure to meet you. Follow me. We can chat in my office.”

  He held the door open to a fairly large workspace that looked professional in every sense of the word. Large wooden desk with two computer screens and assorted paper files adjacent to a long counter that housed maps and architectural drawings. Paintings that depicted vineyards and clusters of grapes were tastefully hung on the walls.

  “Can I get you anything?” He pointed to a chair in front of his desk.

  “The bottled water’s fine, thanks.”

  I sat down and he followed suit, only instead of sitting behind his desk, he pulled an armchair over and sat across from me.

  “You’ll have to forgive me, I’m not familiar with the matter you discussed with my partner, but I think I may have a general sense. You said your name is Ellington, right? Two Witches Winery in Penn Yan?”

  “That’s me. Uh, not one of the witches.”

  He laughed and, in that second, he didn’t strike me as the villainous wretch everyone had made him and his partner out to be. Then again, looks and behaviors could be deceiving. “Does this matter have anything to do with the sale of your winery? Because if it does, we can make you a very appealing offer.”

  Okay. Nothing like going for the jugular.

  “Mr. Roth, I’ve just assumed the responsibilities for Two Witches and I’m not exactly sure what your company is proposing. It was actually my sister who had the original conversation with your partner a while back. She’s out of the country with no immediate plans to return. So, tell me. What is it exactly that your company is planning to achieve?”

  He stood and, for a moment, I thought he was going to escort me out of the office. “Come on over and take a look.”

  He walked to the counter and motioned for me to join him. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the Finger Lakes giants in the winery industry, past and present—Taylor, Bully Hill, Constellation Wines…”

  I nodded and he kept going. “None of them are located on Seneca Lake. What we propose is to build a mega-winery that would encompass all three of the hills between Penn Yan and Geneva. We’d hire the best of the best in the industry and create a brand that would be as well-known as Disney.”

  Disney? Did I hear him right?

  I swallowed what little moisture was in my mouth and looked directly at him. “Mr. Roth, Seneca Lake has numerous wineries. Granted, no mega giants, but there are some substantial ones, as well as burgeoning ones. By building an enormous structure or complex or whatever you’d call it, it would destroy the very fabric of the region. We’d lose all those little wineries and their unique personalities. Not to mention, the wines.”

  “That’s not our plan at all. Take a look at this map and these architectural drawings.”

  He showed me an enormous map of the lake that took up a good portion of the counter. Next to it was an even larger rendering of some buildings and a few structures I couldn’t quite figure out.

  “Here.” He pointed to our hill. “Let me explain. We’re not proposing eliminating every single small winery. Quite the opposite, in fact. We want to take them under our wing, that’s all. They can still maintain their own style. Tourists love all that cozy ambiance.”

  “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “Okay. Think of it this way. Picture a huge shopping mall like Mall of America or even Eastview Mall here in Rochester. Our mega-winery would be the anchor store. It would attract people from all over the world. That’s why the location is paramount. So close to the Thruway and the Greater Rochester International Airport. We plan to develop our winery on those hills. The vineyards are already firmly established. It would simply mean a massive rebuild of the winery labs and support structures. Our brand would, in essence, be a new brand and the little wineries that now dot those three hills would—”

  “Be gone once and for all?”

  “You sound so maudlin. Those businesses would be compensated well or they could come under our umbrella. They’d keep their structures, but it would be our mega-winery brand that they sell. If they really wanted to
maintain their winery business, they could always rebuild on another lake or lower down the lake, say, near Watkins Glen.”

  The thought of rebuilding Two Witches was about as appealing to me as jumping into the lake itself. “It’s not that easy finding a quality winemaker and vineyard managers who know how to handle all facets of planting and harvesting grapes. It’s a specialized industry.”

  “We, of all people, understand that. But you, yourself, have to admit that the tourists are always seeking out entertainment. Here, let me explain what our development company has in mind.”

  With that, he unrolled a large coil of paper and took some paperweights from his desk to hold it down. “These structures to the left are the winery labs, the tasting rooms and gift shops, the barns and the eateries. From bistro to fine dining.”

  “We already have classy restaurants on the lake.”

  “Restaurants, yes, but resorts, no. True, there are some hotels but not what Vanna Enterprises has in store. Do you see this complex?”

  He pointed to a series of buildings and what looked like some sort of lake. “Have you ever heard of Atlantis in the Bahamas?” Before I could say anything, he went on. “We plan to build a resort that would rival even Atlantis. Gourmet restaurants, spas, a lazy river and entertainment. Music, theater, you name it.”

  I think they already built this and it’s called Las Vegas. “The Bahamas are warm. We get winter here.”

  “Winters with a spectacular indoor water complex and—”

  At that moment, the receptionist knocked on his door, opened it and spoke. “I’m sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Roth, but the dealership just called. They’ve finished detailing your Mercedes and you can pick it up tonight or tomorrow. Their collision department also managed to buff out those small scratches on the side of the vehicle. Your service rep said to tell you that you might want to consider purchasing a Mercedes-Benz G-Class AMG or even a GL-Class SUV if you intend to do off-roading. They can make you a very tempting deal.”