by J. C. Eaton
“I have no intention of trading in a brand-new coupe. Please call them and tell them to expect me this evening. I can’t wait to drop off the loaner.”
The receptionist said “Okay” and walked out of the room.
“I, uh, really should be going. I think I’ve taken up enough of your time. I get the idea, Mr. Roth, I really do, but I don’t think money is going to sway any of those wineries on our hills.”
The minute I said that, I regretted it. What if he took that as a dare? Francine told me about some of the issues the little wineries were having. Still, Declan Roth didn’t strike me as the kind of person who would put a dead animal in a mailbox or a closed sign by the road. He was far too classy and possibly dangerous. If anything, he’d be scoping out legal reasons to put a chokehold on each of us.
“Don’t be too hasty, Miss Ellington. Give it some genuine thought. Maybe we could get together, say, for lunch sometime next week? I’d like to continue our conversation. Right now I’ve got a shiny new black coupe waiting for me.”
Oh my God! The shiny new black coupe. Just like the one I’d seen in front of the winery when those men were arguing. It was a no-brainer in my book. Declan Roth had to be one of them.
Chapter 12
Famished, I stopped at nearby Bruegger’s Bagels for their broccoli soup and a turkey sandwich. I was certain it had to be Declan Roth who argued with one of our winemakers the second day I was here. As I stirred the thick soup, something clicked—the term “off-roading.”
Declan had his car detailed, a process that went far beyond the usual washing and polishing. Kind of like the difference between something a restoration company did to a house as opposed to a cleaning service. I put two and two together and shuddered. If Declan Roth was the one who killed Elsbeth, because she wouldn’t sell him her B & B, he had to get rid of the body.
It was quite feasible, in my mind, that he drove her corpse through our woods and dumped her in our vineyard. That would account for his car getting scratched a bit and the interior in desperate need of a thorough cleansing.
Can detailing remove blood stains? DNA?
With Elsbeth gone, Vanna Enterprises could certainly put the pressure on Yvonne. I couldn’t very well point the finger at Declan and insist the sheriff’s department seize his car for evidence because all I had was a theory. Not to mention a sheriff’s deputy who wanted me as far away from this case as I could get.
I bit into my bagel and tried not to think about it. I had other pressing matters to attend to, like my screenplay, and I kept brushing those aside in order to play amateur sleuth. Then again, the thought of a murderer so close to our winery left me no choice. I decided to organize my days so I could do both. I’d get up early and work on the screenplay and then attend to winery stuff and my unofficial investigation later in the day.
That night I had the worst sleep imaginable. Even Charlie got off the bed in favor of the floor because all I did was toss around. I dreamed Renee, the producer, kept moving up my deadline and when I objected, she cackled, “You’ll be tossed to the curb like Conrad Blyth.”
I tried to envision peaceful scenes that would lure me into a restful sleep but every time I did that, the images changed to the vineyard and I saw Elsbeth’s body lying there. By morning, I couldn’t wait to get out of bed.
True to my word, I sat at my laptop drinking coffee and sketching out the screenplay until noon. I prayed my script analyst wouldn’t tear it to shreds once it reached his hands. No way was I going to wind up like poor Conrad. For some inexplicable reason, I looked at Francine’s wall calendar when I got up to stretch and noticed she had written winery meeting for the day after tomorrow. Hell! It didn’t take a genius to figure out I’d have to conduct it. After all, I was managing the place, wasn’t I?
I grabbed a quick shower and hightailed it down to the tasting room. It was Tuesday and that meant Cammy would be in. I really needed to get her take on things because, number one, she struck me as being reasonable and pragmatic as opposed to her coworkers and, number two, she was far more approachable than those crews in the winery lab and vineyards.
“Hey! Good morning,” I called out as soon as I stepped inside. “Or should I say good afternoon?” Lizzie was at her usual spot at the cash register and Glenda was with customers. Cammy was restocking bottles and I walked over to her.
“You got a present,” she said. “I put it in the kitchen. Didn’t know if you wanted to leave it in the tasting room or take it back to the house. It got delivered here. I thought you might be in sooner.”
“A present?”
“Yeah. Someone sent you flowers.”
“Huh?” I charged into the kitchen and stared at the bouquet. I didn’t have to read the card to figure out who sent them. The mini-white carnations and purple asters were a match to the arrangement at the Peaceful Pines. Right up to the raffia on the glass vase.
“Oh no!” I shouted, loud enough to be heard in the tasting room.
“Did you break the vase?” Cammy yelled out.
I ushered her into the kitchen and tried to keep my voice low. “I’m going to be the next one who’s about to be murdered.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“These flowers. I haven’t even read the card but I know they’re from Declan Roth, Lucas Stilton’s partner from Vanna Enterprises. I saw the exact same arrangement at Elsbeth’s B & B the other day. He must have sent them to her, too, before he killed her.”
“Whoa. Slow down. I’m not following any of this.”
I was talking a mile a minute and making absolutely no sense. To make matters worse, my stomach sounded like Mt. Vesuvius before it wiped out half the coast of Italy.
“Uh, maybe I should get something to eat, first.”
“Yeah,” Cammy said. “That’s a good idea. Get a sandwich and then we’ll talk.”
I took the little card from the bouquet with me and opened it after I had given Fred my order for a Reuben. Suddenly I was back in my ninth grade algebra class with my foot tapping the floor and my fingers clicking the table, praying I wouldn’t get called on. Too late. The bouquet with my name on it was staring me in the face. I took a breath and read the contents of the small envelope. It said:
Atlantis can be your dream, too. Let’s talk about it later this week.
Declan Roth.
I honestly didn’t remember eating the Reuben but I was sure it was delicious. So far, all of Fred’s creations turned out to be mouthwatering. Cammy was finishing up with three ladies and I stood patiently near her table, waving the little card at her and mouthing, “I was right.” Finally the women walked over to the wine racks to select their purchases and I grabbed Cammy by the arm.
“Here. Read this.”
She furrowed her brow and read it. Then she read it again. “Holy cow, Norrie. This doesn’t sound like someone who wants to kill you. More like someone who has the hots for you.”
“Ew! No! He’s at least fifteen years older than I am. No way! What he has is some sort of wackadoodle vision that he shares with his partner about turning our small patch of the Finger Lakes into the next source of global entertainment, using the wine industry as a lure. And I’m an obstacle. Just like Elsbeth was.”
“Are you sure you’re not blowing this out of proportion? After all, we’re talking a floral arrangement, not a horse’s head at the foot of your bed.”
“I can’t prove anything, but I’ll tell you what I think.”
I then proceeded to explain about the car detailing and what I had seen in front of our own winery lab. “Let’s face it. I’m stuck. All I have is a theory. Oh, and a motive. I have that. All I’m missing are the facts. Elsbeth’s niece said the last she’d seen of her aunt was around six at dinnertime. Then they went their separate ways in the house, with the TVs turned on, and the niece never knew Elsbeth was missing until the following day
. She thought her aunt had left early the next morning to run errands because the car wasn’t in the garage. Seems that’s part of the mystery, too.”
“Not anymore. Didn’t you catch the news last night?”
“What? No. I was so exhausted when I got back from Penfield, all I did was answer my e-mails and crawl into bed. Why? What was on the news?”
“The Ontario County Sheriff’s Department located Elsbeth’s car in the Geneva Walmart Supercenter on Routes 5 & 20. They notified their counterpart in Yates County and the car was taken to a forensic lab for testing.”
“I doubt they’ll find much. Either Declan and Lucas wiped it clean for prints or they were never in that car to begin with. For all we know, they might’ve arranged for Elsbeth to meet one or both of them at Walmart. It’s such a bustling store, no one would notice. Then she got in one of their cars. Declan’s to be precise. Oh my gosh. Wouldn’t the Walmart security cameras have this information?”
“Funny you should mention it. So did the news anchors. Apparently, that particular camera was out of order. Seems it got busted earlier in the day with a bb gun.”
“That’s convenient.”
“That’s Geneva. Always something.”
Another group of customers approached Cammy’s table and I told her I’d catch up later. Glenda looked swamped, with at least eight people, but Lizzie motioned me over to her spot.
“Well?” she asked. “What did you find out from the Sisters of the Holy Winery?”
For a minute, I thought there was a wine-producing convent I hadn’t heard about. Then I realized she meant Catherine, Rosalee, Madeline and Stephanie.
“I haven’t gotten in touch with them yet. I drove to Penfield instead to meet with those developers from Vanna Enterprises.”
“I wouldn’t waste too much time if I were you. Those women are bound to know something and my gut tells me those developers are bound to lie.”
“You could be right, Lizzie. I’ll keep that in mind.”
I waved good-bye to the tasting room ladies and headed to the house. Alvin made some sort of guttural noise and I actually turned around, walked back and petted him. This time no spit. Someone had cleaned his pen and put down fresh hay. Francine was right. The vineyard employees made sure the animals were taken care of. I made a mental note to tell John I’d be feeding Charlie from now on so not to have his staff give the dog more food. That hound was already milking me for every last bit of kibble.
When I got back to the house, my first intention was to call one of those wineries and invite myself over to speak with their proprietress, but as soon as I picked up Francine’s list of names, I realized something. If Declan and Lucas were the real perpetrators and not Yvonne, then what would stop them from putting the pressure on her? Aargh. Yvonne was already considering a possible offer. Wasn’t that what I heard her say?
My finger couldn’t tap her number fast enough on my cell phone. She picked up on the second ring and I started right in. “Hello. Yvonne? This is Norrie from the other day. Hope you’re okay. Listen, there’s something you should know.” What? That I have absolutely no proof those developers killed your aunt. “You may be in danger. Don’t say anything to Declan Roth or Lucas Stilton from Vanna Enterprises for a few days. And whatever you do, don’t meet them anywhere.”
“What are you talking about? What do you mean?”
“They may have had something to do with your aunt’s death.”
“I just got off the phone with Deputy Hickman and he didn’t say anything of the sort. He told me my aunt’s car would be unavailable for at least a week. Maybe longer if they find something. One way or another, I have to get a rental. What’s going on?”
I didn’t want to go into too many details because I was concerned she’d call that deputy back and then he’d traipse over here to read me the riot act again. Instead, I kept it short with lots of innuendo. After all, if I could do that with screenplay dialogue, I’d certainly be able to pull it off with Yvonne.
“Oh my word,” she said. “That’s troubling. Keep me posted, will you?”
“Absolutely.”
I let out a slow breath and tapped the red end-call button. Next, I looked up Catherine Trobert’s number at Lake View Winery and dialed. Hers was the first name on Francine’s list.
Her voice sounded warm and welcoming when she picked up the phone. “Norrie, how are you? Is everything going smoothly? I mean, as well as it can since the you know…since Elsbeth’s—”
“Unfortunate ending in our Riesling vineyard? Yeah, we’re doing okay, Mrs. Trobert.”
“Please. Call me Catherine. You’re one of us now. A bona fide member of the West Side Women of the Wineries.”
“Well, sure. Thanks. I was actually hoping you might have some time to spare this week. I’m trying to piece together all the possible information I can on Elsbeth Waters. It might give me a better idea of how she wound up where she did.”
“I’m not sure I can be much help but I’d love to chat with you. What are you doing right now? I made some sunshine iced tea and I’ve got a good hour or so to spare before I get dinner on for tonight. What do you say? Can you stop over?”
“Yes. Sounds great. Give me a few minutes and I’ll be on my way.”
I quickly brushed my hair and pulled it back into a ponytail. The jeans and lightweight top I had on were fine for vineyard visiting. I felt as if I shouldn’t go there emptyhanded but it wasn’t as if I had time to bake cookies. Even the readymade, put-them-in-the-oven kind. Then I remembered the pantry and a whole shelf of strawberry jam Francine had made. The season started in early June and she had told me she was done with her jellies and jams two weeks later. Martha Stewart had nothing on my sister. I grabbed the nearest jar and bolted out the door.
Catherine Trobert was sitting on the porch of her forest-green Victorian house and waved to me the minute I got out of my car. “Come on over and make yourself comfortable. It’s a perfect afternoon. We won’t be saying that in a few weeks when the heat kicks in.”
She poured me a glass of iced tea and I handed her the jelly.
“Goodness. You didn’t have to do that, but thanks so much. One of Francine’s?”
“Uh-huh. Domesticity isn’t exactly my strong suit.”
“Oh, I don’t think that matters much in today’s world. Men seem to be equal partners now. Speaking of which, I told Steven you were back in Penn Yan and he sends his regards. He’ll be here Labor Day Weekend to help us kick off the fall rush. He’s a junior partner in a law firm in Augusta. So busy with work, he’s still single. I imagine the same goes for you.”
Boy. I didn’t see that coming. “Uh, yeah. Work. My writing career doesn’t give me a whole lot of spare time. Not if I want to succeed in this business. Even though I’m technically watching the winery for Francine and Jason, I’ve still got deadlines and all.”
Catherine nodded and smiled. “You really should get together with Steven when he visits. I’m sure you both have lots of catching up to do.”
Catching up? He was two years ahead of me in school and the only thing I saw of him was the back of his head on the school bus, and that stopped the minute he got his driver’s license.
“Sure. No problem. Maybe by then the sheriff’s department will have solved Elsbeth’s murder.” Whew. Finally managed to get to the real reason I’m here. “I know she sort of pushed everyone to their breaking point at the wineries but would someone have had a motive for killing her that wasn’t, say, as obvious as being the irritating witch she was?”
Catherine shrugged and refilled my iced tea. “The niece, maybe. Very strange woman. Almost as if she’s acting the part. Very timid and withdrawn. Then again, living with that harpy may have caused the niece to suffer a complete breakdown and murder the aunt in a fit of fury.”
“I didn’t get that impression. I visited the B & B and the niec
e seemed, well, pretty grounded. And if she did kill her aunt and dump the body, wouldn’t she have driven the car back? They only had one car.”
“True. True. Well, I’m certain none of the winery women had anything to do with it. I’ve known these ladies for years. Except Stephanie Ipswich. She’s fairly new. Hmm, and she owns the bottom part of Gable Hill, right below the spot where Peaceful Pines is located. You know, come to think of it, I recall Stephanie once saying how they’d like to buy up the entire hill and expand their winery. They made an offer to Elsbeth about a year ago, but it was rejected.” She paused for a moment and stared off in the distance. “All that wonderful sloping land…perfect for vineyards. Elsbeth could’ve still kept the B & B, but she’d have no part of it. Said the last thing she needed was all that noise, not to mention the haze and dust from the spraying. You don’t suppose Stephanie had anything to do with it? She seems like such a lovely lady. And a mother, as well, with two young boys.”
It’s always the ones we least expect.
Catherine took a long sip of her tea. “Stephanie wasn’t the only one who wanted the land. Vanna Enterprises is circling all of us like a shark. I hope it turns out they were responsible and not Stephanie. Dear Lord. To think, if it was Stephanie, I’ve been cavorting with a murderess.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call monthly winery meetings cavorting. But you’re right. Gable Hill Winery did have a motive.”
“Norrie, you’re not going to say anything to the sheriff’s deputies, are you?”
“Heck no! I’ve been told, in no uncertain terms, to mind my own business. But it is my business. Elsbeth wound up dead in what might be next year’s vintage.”
“I’m sure the case will get solved. In the meantime, if I were you, I’d be extra cautious. You know, keep your doors and windows locked. And if you need anything, don’t be a stranger. I’ll let Steven know you’re looking forward to seeing him in a few months.”
