A Riesling to Die

by J. C. Eaton

  What? How did that happen? “Uh, yes. Well, I should get going. It was really nice talking with you.”

  “When you hear from Francine, send our regards. That experiment station doesn’t offer many grants like that. Jason is one lucky entomologist.”

  Chapter 13

  Humph. It was probably nothing but that was the second time I heard something like that. About Jason getting the grant. Maybe someone pulled some strings but not because they were dying to learn more about rare bugs. Maybe they wanted Jason and my sister out of the way. I tried to push that thought from my mind because I had enough to deal with. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to poke around and see what I could find out. The trouble was, I had no idea where to poke.

  In addition to Yvonne and Declan, I added Stephanie to my list of possible killers and called her as soon as I got back to the house.

  “You must’ve been reading my mind,” she said, “because I’ve been meaning to invite you over here. Especially after that awful shock you had. How about stopping by Friday morning for coffee and muffins? Any time after nine works for me. The boys will be at school and my husband will have barricaded himself in the winery by then. It’s one of the few times I can catch my breath. Whatever idiot said it was easier to raise twins than having children spaced apart in years needs to have his or her head examined. Two first graders are beyond exhausting. Anyway, can you make it?”

  I really wanted to stick to my original plan of working on the screenplay in the mornings and snooping about later in the day, but I wasn’t about to blow my chances with Stephanie.

  “How about nine-thirty?”

  “Perfect. I’ll see you then.”

  I made myself some French toast for dinner and tossed a few pieces into Charlie’s kibble. It was gone before I even put the first forkful in my mouth. I caught a bit of the evening news and all but had a coronary when they showed a picture of our vineyard. Yellow tape and all.

  Damn it! When are they going to remove that crime tape?

  Nothing new for the sheriff’s department to share with the public. I did some quick channel surfing and that same, or similar, photo of the broken irrigation pipe in the Riesling section flashed on the screen again. At least it wasn’t anything gory that would bring out the kook and nutcases.

  Boy, was I wrong.

  The next morning, the parking lot to our tasting room was filled to capacity by nine-forty-five and the doors didn’t open until ten. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I stared out the window. I pushed the File Save button on my laptop, left my protagonist sweating over her decision to quit her job and all but ran down to the tasting room.

  “Stay!” I commanded Charlie. I snaked my way past a long line of tourists and muttered things like, “I work here” or “I’m opening up the place.” Only one person told me not to cut in line. I blew past them.

  “Cammy! Cammy!” My voice exploded as I unlocked the door and latched it behind me. “What’s going on?”

  Cammy and Roger both came rushing over. Lizzie manned her position at the cash register as if it was the Alamo.

  “The news. That’s what,” Roger said. “I got an earful from the crowd on my way in. They all want to see where the dead body was found.”

  For a moment, I thought I didn’t hear him correctly and I stood there, speechless, with my mouth wide open.

  “He’s right,” Cammy said. “What a bunch of ghouls. We’ve got to do something before they take it upon themselves to go trampling all over the place. We give tours but only on the weekends in June. We don’t start the daily tours until Fourth of July weekend. What do we tell them? I’ve got to let them in. We open in two minutes.”

  “Okay. Fine. Not a problem. I remember how to give tours. When they come in for a tasting, have them sign up with Lizzie. I’ll take groups of ten. Tell them, for insurance purposes, we cannot have them go off on their own. Oh, and call down to the winery and the barn. Let Franz and John know what’s going on. Use their cell phones if they don’t answer.”

  I hadn’t given a winery tour in over ten years, and I wasn’t that good at it back then. Especially the winemaking part of the deal. After all, these were savvy wine tasters and no one wanted to hear, “Something happens in these tanks.” Then a thought came to me—I’m the boss. I said it out loud but under my breath so no one heard me. I’m the boss.

  I reached into my pocket for my phone and dialed Peter’s cell number. Thank goodness I’d listened to Francine’s advice and added all the important numbers to my contacts list.

  “Peter,” I said before the guy could catch a breath. “We’ve got an issue. I need you to step in and help out with the winery tours. Now. Before the zillion tourists who are in our tasting room turn into the next zombie apocalypse.”

  It took me a minute or two but once I’d explained, Peter agreed to head it off at the pass. His words, not mine. Then I called Franz and he agreed to have Herbert explain the fermentation process but only in front of the winery lab. Fine with me.

  As horrendous as the scenario was at ten in the morning, we had it well under control by noon. It seemed most of the visitors were more interested in the crime scene than a winery, but we still sold a record number of bottles before the day ended.

  “We can’t possibly do this again tomorrow. I can’t possibly do this again tomorrow. I can barely stand on my feet,” I wailed to Cammy once she had locked the tasting room doors for the day. “Who usually does the tours for us?”

  “College students. We’ve already got them lined up.”

  “Great. Can you call them and get them started tomorrow?”

  “No problem.”

  “Oh my God. Tomorrow. The winery meeting. I’m supposed to conduct the winery meeting. What time do we meet?”

  Cammy put her hand on my shoulder and gave me a pat. “Relax, will you? We meet at eleven in the kitchen. The meeting only lasts an hour unless Franz goes off on some ridiculous tangent. Don’t worry about it. All you have to do is ask each manager for an update. Once that’s over with, you ask for any concerns or suggestions and review the upcoming calendar with them. By the way, if they have a concern, ask them for their solution. That’s what your sister did. That simple.”

  Yeah, simple for her. Not me. When I left the winery, I trudged back to the house and spent the next hour and a half reviewing Robert’s Rules of Order. Just in case. Then I made myself a grilled cheese and tomato sandwich and returned to my screenplay. By then, my mind was a complete dribble. I closed the laptop and spent the next two hours watching the TV and dozing on and off, with Charlie curled up next to me.

  The nap must’ve done me some good because I woke refreshed and ready to get back to work. Last thing I needed was to become the next Conrad Blyth. It was well after midnight when I finally called it quits and crept into bed. That was when something dawned on me—Elsbeth’s cell phone and purse. Where were they? They weren’t next to her body in the vineyard. And Yvonne didn’t make any mention of them. Were they in the car found at Walmart?

  I was positive Deputy Hickman wasn’t about to share that information with me, but I desperately needed to find out. Maybe I’d find another way…

  My stomach was in knots the next morning and I had to shove my thoughts about Elsbeth to the far reaches of my consciousness. It was Thursday. Winery meeting day. I racked my brain, trying to remember the last time I had conducted a meeting and realized, with no uncertainty, never! I had never conducted a meeting. Even back in high school. I was in all sorts of clubs but never the president. Aargh. I hoped Francine and Jason stepped on those damn bugs!

  To make matters worse, and to add to my growing sense of frustration with everything, Peter phoned at a little past ten to ask if everything was okay and if I needed anything. He sounded condescending, but maybe it was my imagination. I thanked him for pitching in yesterday. Cammy had already informed him, as well as Herbert, that the
same tour guides we used last year from Hobart and William Smith Colleges in Geneva were back at the winery and raring to go. At least that nightmare was over with.

  The kitchen table was strewn with my notes for the meeting. Everything appeared organized. Why, then, did I feel as if I was about to throw up? I grabbed the phone and dialed Don and Theo. Mainly because I needed reassurance.

  “Cut yourself some slack, Norrie,” Theo said. “It’s only a winery meeting. Stay on task and, whatever you do, don’t let anyone pull you into a different direction. If they bring up something and you’re not sure, just say ‘That’s very interesting. I’ll give it some thought and get back to you.’”

  “Thanks. I really appreciate it. Listen, there’s something else. I need to talk with you and Don about the investigation. I’ve got a few thoughts rolling around in my mind.”

  “Any time. Just give a holler. By the way, what were you selling up there yesterday? The traffic up the hill was nonstop and we did a record business for the day.”

  I told him the real reason the tourists were out in full force and he groaned. “Ugh. That’s really morbid. They wanted to see where Elsbeth’s body was found? Downright creepy, if you ask me.”

  “Oh, it gets worse. One of the people asked if the toxins in her body could contaminate the soil and render it useless for planting.”

  “You have got to be kidding me.”

  “I explained that, according to the preliminary coroner’s report, it was blunt force trauma, not poisoning that killed her. Honestly, I felt as if I was conducting a murder scene tour and not a winery visit. Thank goodness Peter and Herbert did their part. I’m really worried that if those deputies don’t figure out something soon, we’ll be besieged with a lot of nonsense.”

  “As long as you’re besieged with customers, don’t worry about it.”

  When I stepped inside the tasting room building for the winery meeting, I felt better. Until I saw Deputy Hickman waiting for me. It was ten twenty-five and I had thirty-five minutes to prepare myself for that production.

  “Good Morning, Miss Ellington. I won’t keep you long. I stopped by to let you know your vineyard area is free and clear. Our forensic team is finished processing it and they sent someone to take down the yellow tape a few minutes ago. Same goes for the wooded area behind your house. The ground was soft, so we were able to extract some tire prints. The lab is working on matching them to particular vehicles.”

  “Tire prints you said? So there was more than one kind?”

  “Those woods of yours had lots of dried prints. A regular KOA campground. And who knows how long they could’ve been there. First thing the lab did was check to see if they matched Elsbeth’s car, but they didn’t.”

  “I guess that means whoever dumped her, didn’t use her car and then drive it to Walmart. And before you say anything, it was on the news. About Walmart. So Elsbeth’s car was never in the woods.”

  “No, it wasn’t. The perpetrator must’ve driven his or her own vehicle through those woods. The scarf was definitely Elsbeth’s, but how it wound up in the woods is anyone’s guess. Unless that dog of yours found it elsewhere.”

  “I don’t think so. He came out of the woods with it. What about her cell phone and purse? Did you find them? Because they weren’t with her body in our vineyard. Were they in the car?”

  “We’re not at liberty to disclose that information at this time.”

  “Look, don’t take this wrong. I’m not telling you how to do your job, but whenever there’s a cell phone involved in a crime on TV, they always call it or triangulate the location.”

  “Thank you, Miss Ellington, for keeping me abreast of how Hollywood writers conduct their investigations. In the meantime, we’ll follow our own procedures. Oh. One more thing. I’ll need a list of the vehicles your employees own. Make. Model. Year.”

  “You can’t be serious. You think just because a body was found in our vineyard one of us had something to do with it?”

  “I am. Very serious. Please e-mail that information to me by the end of the day. As of four p.m. yesterday, Elsbeth Waters’s death was officially ruled a homicide.”

  “Yeah. I kind of figured as much when you originally mentioned blunt force trauma to the head.”

  He glared at me. “The woman could have fallen and hit herself. That’s why we have a coroner. To make those determinations.”

  He handed me a Yates County Sheriff’s Department business card and reminded me to leave the investigation to the professionals.

  “What was that all about?” Cammy asked as soon as the deputy left the building.

  “It’s officially a murder. As if we didn’t know. Anyway, that forensic crew found tire prints in the woods. Big surprise there. And now their lab needs a list of all our vehicles. You know. To see if any of those prints might match a particular tire type.”

  “Oh, brother. Listen, whatever you do, don’t start the meeting with that. You’ll never get past square one. Save it for the very end and pass around a sheet of paper for us to fill out. My car’s that cutesy little 2014 Buick Encore. I bought it used last year and, believe me, the woods are the last place I’d drive it.”

  “This is such a waste of time. The car they really should be checking is— Oh my gosh. I’m surprised I didn’t think of this before. I’m going to write down the make and model of Declan Roth’s car. I’ll just say it belongs to the winery as one of our vehicles.”

  “That’s a stretch, you know. A truck, maybe. That’s believable. Lots of wineries own their own trucks, but didn’t you say he had a Mercedes?”

  “Yes. A coupe.”

  “Oh, what the heck! Go for it anyway. That deputy’s just going to take the list and pass it over to the lab. And if they do question you, tell them the car is used for fancy winery events.”

  “If that car turns out to be a match, then I’ll tell him the truth. That I think Declan Roth might be involved. I can’t say anything now because I’m not supposed to be sleuthing.”

  Just then, Glenda rushed over to us and I could see the customers she had at her table were now selecting wines for purchase. At least that was a good start to the day.

  “Hi, Norrie! I was hoping I’d catch you before you took off for that meeting. I really think we need to conduct a complete smudging of the tasting room. We can’t take any chances.”

  “A smudging? What on earth’s a smudging?”

  Glenda took a deep breath and enunciated every word. “It’s a ritualistic cleansing of a building to eliminate any negative energy. And believe me, Elsbeth spewed plenty of that whenever she came in here. Now, her restless spirit will never give us any peace.”

  “Uh, okay. A cleansing. Like washing down everything? Because that’s not a bad idea. I mean, we clean and all, but a good deep cleaning never hurt anything.”

  Glenda crinkled her nose and shook her head. “Not that kind of cleaning. It involves burning special herbs, like sage, and chanting. When the smoke floats about the room, it removes any of the restless spirits.”

  “It will also set off our smoke detectors.” And stink up this place.

  Cammy’s eyes looked like saucers as she stared at Glenda. “Norrie’s right. I’m not so sure this is a great idea.”

  Glenda was unmoved. “We can’t have negative energy in here. Especially Elsbeth’s. I happen to have smudge sticks at home that I made from sage and lavender, but if you’re really concerned about the smoke, I suppose we can use white sage incense sticks. I can order them online if you’d like.”

  Suddenly I remembered what Theo told me and repeated it. “That’s very interesting. I’ll give it some thought and get back to you.”

  Cammy bit her lip and turned toward Lizzie. “You’ve got the watch, Lizzie. Norrie and I have that meeting.” Then, to Glenda. “Hold down the fort. See you later.”

  Before Glenda could res
pond, Cammy and I went into the kitchen and waited for John and Franz to arrive. My stomach felt as if it had gone ten rounds with Muhammad Ali.

  Chapter 14

  “I hope you don’t mind”—John tossed a frayed notebook onto the table—“but Peter’s on his way. Since he’ll be taking over for me next summer, I figured now would be a good time to have him attend our meetings and, little by little, shoulder more of the responsibilities.”

  Wonderful. As if I don’t have enough stress. “Uh, sure. Makes sense to me.”

  Cammy took out five bottles of spring water from the fridge and placed them on the table while we waited for Franz and Peter.

  “Any news on the investigation?” John asked. “I saw the sheriff’s car pulling out of our driveway.”

  Just then Franz walked in and took a seat. “Sorry. I meant to get here sooner but it’s always one little holdup after another.”

  “You’re fine,” I said. “It’s eleven on the nose.”

  With that, Peter walked in and said something similar about being late. He took the seat next to John and nodded at everyone. All eyes were on me and it was show time. I hate you, Francine, and all those stupid bugs, too.

  “Thanks, everyone, for coming.” What the heck’s wrong with me? Like they have a choice? “I know everyone’s time is valuable, so we’ll begin the usual way with your reports and then move on to concerns, suggestions and upcoming events.”

  “Might I suggest we begin with the elephant in the room?” Peter asked. “John and I saw the sheriff’s car leaving a few minutes ago.”

  I took a breath and curled my toes so I’d have something else to think about, and swore I wouldn’t get sidetracked or trapped. “I promise we’ll talk about that but right now we need to begin with our regularly scheduled format. Cammy, can you please give us an update on the tasting room?”

  Wasting no time, Cammy reviewed the number of tasters we’d had in the last month and our sales, wine by wine. The blends were way out in front, probably because they were the least expensive, but we’d had a substantial number of sales from all of our wines.