A Riesling to Die

by J. C. Eaton

  “Norrie? Is that you? I thought it was.”

  “Mrs. Marbleton, hi!”

  “Oh, call me Rosalee. Everyone else does.”

  She took the chair next to mine and placed a large almond croissant on the table. “I’ll be right back. They’re still making my latte.”

  It was tough enough getting used to calling Mrs. Trobert Catherine, but Rosalee Marbleton was old enough to be my grandmother. And she looked the part, too. Short gray hair styled to perfection, wire-rimmed glasses and more than her share of love handles. She was the quintessential grandmotherly type.

  “It’s nice running into you,” I said. “I haven’t really been out and about too much.” Other than the occasional trip to Vanna Enterprises in Penfield or dinner on the lake.

  “That’s certainly understandable. Forgive me for not calling you after hearing about that grim discovery in your vineyard. It’s unforgivable. Not Elsbeth’s death. Me. It wasn’t right. I should’ve called. The truth of the matter is, I didn’t quite know what to say. I didn’t want to sound like one of those busybodies looking for gossip and I’m afraid that’s what you would have thought. Anyway, please accept my apologies.”

  “You have nothing to apologize for. Honest.”

  Rosalee smiled and patted my hand. “That’s very sweet of you. I hope Elsbeth’s murder hasn’t discouraged visitors from your winery.”

  “Quite the opposite. If they could create a bus tour, it would be a sellout.”

  “Honestly, I’ll never understand people. This region offers splendid vineyards and award-winning wines and what does the public want? To see where someone found a dead body.”

  “I know. Gruesome, huh?”

  “If you ask my opinion, I think it was the niece who killed her. Have you ever met that girl? Very strange. Even by today’s standards. Elsbeth must’ve pushed her over the edge with all that work at the B & B. I think the poor girl simply snapped and gave the old aunt a slug with the nearest heavy object.”

  “How did you—Oh, that’s right. The news.”

  “The TV commentators said it was blunt force trauma to the head and yesterday’s paper called it a murder. Did the deputies share any titillating tidbits with you?”

  Titillating tidbits? Dear Lord. “Uh, no. I’m getting the mushroom treatment.”

  “The what?”

  “They keep me in the dark and feed me B.S.”

  Rosalee laughed. “So you don’t have any idea what the murder weapon was?”

  “None whatsoever. But I do have an idea of the time of death—somewhere between nine and ten the night before.”

  “What station were you listening to? WHAM didn’t mention time of death.”

  “Um, I’m not sure. Channel 12 I think.”

  I couldn’t believe I was babbling so freely with Rosalee. For all I knew, she could’ve been the one who made Elsbeth see stars. Although I seriously doubted it.

  “Nine and ten, eh? Real easy for the niece to do the deed, especially if Elsbeth was already in the car. Did anyone think of that? A whack to the head and that was that! All the niece needed to do was dump the body. Domestic violence is a leading cause of death in the United States. Were you aware of that?”

  “Uh, no.”

  Rosalee took a bite out of her croissant and washed it down with a sip of her latte. Maybe she had a point. About them being in the car. Then again, the logistics didn’t make sense. I leaned my chin on the palm of my hand and looked directly at her. “If Elsbeth was behind the wheel, they would’ve crashed or, at the very least, veered off the road into a ditch. These hills have deep gullies on the sides.”

  “Maybe the niece was driving.”

  “Still a little difficult, don’t you think, for someone to be driving and then reaching over to clock the person in the passenger seat?”

  “What if there was an accomplice? Someone in the backseat who did the nasty deed?”

  “Who? From what I’ve been told, Elsbeth kept to herself. Yvonne, too. That’s the niece’s name. And yeah, you’re right. I did meet her and she was rather standoffish. But that might be explainable under the circumstances. It was right after her aunt’s body was discovered.”

  “I still think it’s the niece. Maybe by the time I get back from Alaska the murder will be solved. My flight to Seattle is tomorrow. That’s why I came in here. To pick up my prescriptions at the pharmacy and some odds and ends.”

  “Alaska? You’re flying to Alaska?”

  The way Rosalee said it took me totally off guard. All I could do was stare at her while she went on and on.

  “Can you believe it? I’m still pinching myself. All my life I’ve wanted to visit the Glaciers and Denali National Park. And now it’s finally happening. The vacation of a lifetime and to think, I won it!”

  “You won it? Holy cow! What contest? Or was it the lottery?”

  “This is so embarrassing, really, but for the life of me, I can’t even remember entering that sweepstakes contest. Of course, I’ve entered so many over the years but this is the first time I won anything.”

  The last thing I felt like doing was to burst that happy little bubble of Rosalee’s but the only word that came to my mind was scam. What if it was a scam and she fell for it? Did she pay money upfront and will she get to the airport only to learn her ticket was bogus? I bit my lip and cringed. “Are you sure the sweepstake’s legitimate?”

  “Absolutely. The company—some name with a bunch of initials—went through the local travel agent here in Geneva. My granddaughter, who lives in Ithaca, is joining me for a three-week cruise and an interior tour of Alaska’s major attractions. Everything’s been totally paid for, including the gratuities. I feel as if I’m in a dream.”

  “How did you find out?” I asked.

  “From the local travel agent. She called to tell me that I’d won this sweepstakes and needed some information so she could make the arrangements. The company works directly through the travel agencies.”

  “So you handled it on the phone?”

  “No. I drove directly to the agency and sat down face-to-face with Bonnie Frisk, the agent. She was the same one who booked a flight for my husband and me two years ago so we could visit his family in Cleveland. I’m glad we went because he passed away a few months later.”

  “I’m sorry. About your loss.”

  “Thank you. Listen, I know what you must be thinking but don’t. I didn’t fall for one of those scams. In fact, I had my attorney check the whole thing out.”

  “Oh my gosh. I’m really happy for you. But over three weeks? That’s a long time to be gone from your business.”

  “Not three weeks, more like four and a half. I made temporary arrangements for my sister, Marilyn Ansley, who lives in Penn Yan, to oversee the operation. The most she’ll have to do is pay any unexpected bills and take care of the corgis. It’ll give her something to do other than gossip with her friends at the senior center. As far as winery operations go, I can trust my managers to make sure things are running smoothly. Besides, Marilyn owns the vineyard’s land. About time she did something.”

  “The land?”

  “That’s right. My parents’ trust left Marilyn the land and me the winery. At that time it was only a small building, no bigger than a garage. Marilyn didn’t want any part of the business but I had just gotten married and my husband, who was a farmer, thought running a winery would be perfect for us. As things turned out, he was right. We put a lot of sweat equity into the place. Marilyn better not screw it up. She’ll be in charge of all the decisions for the month.”

  Gee, where have I heard that before? I took another sip of my coffee and debated buying another cup but at that moment Rosalee stood and excused herself.

  “I’d love to stay and chat with you, dear, but I’ve got so many things to do today. I’ll send you a postcard from Denali. Or s
omeplace in Alaska. We’ll be off the beaten trail for part of the excursion. Anyway, I’ll be back in time for the “Sip and Savor.” Send my regards to your sister when you hear from her. Tsk. Tsk. Costa Rica. Exotic bugs. Not my idea of a pleasant trip. Well, to each his own.”

  “Nice seeing you Mrs. Marbleton. Have a good time.”

  “It’s Rosalee. And I will! I most certainly will!”

  I watched as Rosalee Marbleton strode toward the pharmacy. An odd feeling came over me and, for a brief second, I shivered. I couldn’t prove anything but it seemed more than coincidental she “won” that trip to Alaska. Same way Jason secured his study grant at the last minute? If Vanna Enterprises was behind all of this, I froze at the thought of what they might do next. Theo and Don wanted me to wait and be cautious but maybe that was what got Elsbeth killed. Maybe she knew too much.

  Then there was Yvonne. Was she the scheming little wench who killed her aunt or an unwitting victim herself? The more I thought about it, the more it began to sound like one of my screenplays. I stood, tossed my empty coffee cup in the trash and proceeded down the aisle to buy milk and eggs.

  Chapter 17

  The entire situation seemed more than coincidental. First, Elsbeth out of the way for good, then Francine and Jason in a Costa Rican rainforest for a year and now Rosalee Marbelton “off the beaten path” somewhere in Alaska. It was way too contrived for my liking. It felt as if all of us in these little wineries were links in a chain and Vanna Enterprises was going to find the weakest ones and take advantage. That awful line from The Godfather played over and over again in my head as I drove home. Make you an offer you can’t refuse.

  Yvonne was all but ready to throw in the towel when I spoke with her right after the incident. She told me there had been an offer from a winery to buy the B & B and I knew it had to be Vanna Enterprises. In fact, I warned her to steer clear of them until I had a chance to talk with her again. Now she had to be told the truth—that Lucas and Declan most likely were the ones responsible for her aunt’s murder—even though the sheriff’s department hadn’t reached that conclusion yet. Vanna Enterprises needed the property and knew Elsbeth was so obtuse and stubborn, she’d never sell it. Even if they offered her a generous deal. Yvonne, on the other hand, would be darn pliable.

  If I didn’t have milk and eggs in my car, I would’ve driven straight over to Peaceful Pines to tell Yvonne what I’d learned about Jason’s grant and Rosalee’s unexpected vacation. Instead, I went home, intending to phone her the second I got in the door. Too bad I was sidetracked on my way up the driveway.

  On the left, Peter, Robbie and Travis were fast at work installing mesh barriers in front of the vineyard rows. Up ahead of them, in another part of the vineyard, I saw a few more workers. Peter waved me over and I rolled my window down.

  “Hi. How’s it going? I didn’t expect to see you working on Saturday.”

  Peter took a few steps forward. In the early morning sun, with light beads of sweat on his brow, he really looked smoking hot. I tried not to think about it because the last thing I needed was to complicate my life.

  “My schedule’s flexible,” he said. “Besides, we’re almost done with this project. Not bad for starting it two days ago. John’s way up the hill by the Riesling and the Grey Egret sent over a few men early this morning. That’s them, in the Chardonnay section. All of us have been busting our chops.”

  “Wow. Guess it paid off. Thanks.” And thank you, Theo and Don. “Will the barriers work?”

  “If nothing else, it’ll make the tourists think twice before entering the rows. Say, any news about the investigation? Did the sheriff’s department find any more clues?”

  I shrugged. “Not since our meeting the day before and if they did, I seriously doubt they’d share that information with me. As far as they’re concerned, we’re all suspects.”

  “You’ll let us know if you hear anything, won’t you?”

  “Sure. Have a good day.”

  By the time I’d put the milk and eggs away and picked up the phone for the Peaceful Pines, I got their answering machine. It was Yvonne’s voice and I left her a message to call me. I was about to open my laptop and pick up where I left off on my screenplay when the landline rang.

  “Hello. Am I speaking to Jason Keane’s sister-in-law? This is Godfrey Klein. I work in the same department as Jason.”

  “Oh my God! Has something happened?”

  My mind flooded over with horrific images that would rival Dante’s Inferno.

  “Everything’s fine. Spectacular, really. The team has already spotted the Culex aegypti and the Culex albopictus, but, of course, you probably know that last one by its common name.”

  “Uh, er, um…”

  “Anyway, we were able to hook up on a satellite transmission but only for a few minutes. They wanted you to know they are fine.”

  “And that’s it?”

  “Well, they did provide us with information for the Global Invasive Species Database if you’re interested, but I’d have to clear that first with my department head.”

  “No. That’s not necessary.” Not in this lifetime. Not in any lifetime.

  I was about to thank him and hang up when I had a chilling thought. What if someone told them about Elsbeth?

  “Um, Mr. Klein, Godfrey, when your department spoke with Jason, did they happen to tell him anything about, say, local events?”

  “Goodness, no. It was a research call. We have to abide by certain parameters and that includes limiting the conversation to our findings.”

  The tension in my neck began to release and I took a deep breath. “That’s wonderful. Wonderful. Nothing worse than government waste.”

  “How true. Anyway, I thought you’d like to know about their status.”

  “I did. I do. I appreciate it. If you reach them again, please let me know.”

  “Certainly. We expect to have monthly communiques.”

  “Okay, then. Thanks for calling. Have a nice day.”

  My heart was still pounding nonstop when I got off the phone, but I knew one thing—Francine and Jason were still in the dark when it came to the dead body in our vineyard. I poured myself a huge glass of iced tea and booted up my laptop. As much as I hated to admit it, Francine’s kitchen table wasn’t a bad place to work. The only sounds were birds and the occasional motorboat on the lake, unlike the ongoing cacophony outside my apartment. Endless honking of horns, the rumbling of traffic and, oh yes, expletives that came out of nowhere, usually accompanied by doors slamming.

  At a little past one, I saved my file and made myself a toasted bagel with cream cheese. Charlie must’ve smelled it from somewhere outside because he bolted through his doggie door, looked at me and whined. I gave him a decent-size chunk and chastised myself for not following Francine’s explicit feeding directions for him.

  Satiated, I reopened my laptop and was about to get started again when the phone rang. “Norrie? This is Yvonne. I got your message. I was busy making up the rooms and running the wash.”

  “Yvonne, it’s really important I talk to you. You haven’t signed any agreements yet with any companies for your B & B, have you?”

  “I wish I could. I’d pack up and leave right now. Have you ever watched Beachfront Bargain Hunt on HGTV? I want to relocate to Baja California. And I would, too, if I could ever get out from under here. But finalizing my aunt’s estate is taking forever. Thank God the will didn’t go into probate. And then there’s her burial to deal with. The county didn’t release the body to the funeral home until yesterday.”

  “You’re having a funeral for her?”

  “No. I’m saving myself the time and embarrassment. And money. No one would come. I’m having her cremated and I’ll hold a small service for her in her hometown near Syracuse.”

  “Sounds like a very sensible idea. Listen, about the sale of your property�
�� I can’t prove it, but I really think those developers from Vanna Enterprises are responsible for your aunt’s murder. Lucas Stilton and Declan Roth. They wanted Elsbeth out of the way so they could pressure you.”

  “Is that what the sheriff’s department thinks, too? Because, as of this morning, they were still questioning me. That’s why I had such a late start around the place today. Luckily I baked a frittata last night. It saved me time this morning when I had to prepare breakfast. Geez, if I could just hand these people a coupon for McDonald’s, I’d do so.”

  “I don’t blame you. I hate cooking. What did the deputies want?”

  “Believe it or not, they came with a search warrant. They think my aunt’s purse and cell phone are here. Duh. If I killed her, and I most certainly was not the one who did, I wouldn’t be stupid enough to leave such telling evidence behind.”

  “I take it they didn’t find anything.”

  “Nothing incriminating. Or useful, as far as their investigation goes. If you think it’s those other guys, did you tell that to the sheriff’s department?”

  “I plan to. At some point. Not just yet. Anyway, don’t turn over anything to them. No matter what kind of offer they make. Okay?”

  “Like I said, the legal process is the hold up. Not me.”

  I couldn’t get a yes or no from Yvonne, but I didn’t blame her. Not really. She was thinking about what was best for her and if it meant some bargain hut in Mexico then so be it. The only option I had at this point was to go full steam ahead with my plan. Easy enough, except for one thing—I was the kind of person who had this insatiable need to have my ideas validated. Unfortunately, the two people whom I hoped would see the logic to my plan thought I would be taking a terrible, if not downright stupid, risk.

  Maybe Cammy would see it differently. She struck me as being sensible and stable. The second I got off the phone with Yvonne, I called the tasting room and left a message for Cammy, asking if she’d please stay late for a few minutes so we could talk. That being done, I immersed myself in A Swim Under the Waterfall. Renee would be hounding me for the synopsis and, unlike those orderly, sequential writers who planned things out first, I worked by the seat of my pants. I wrote the screenplay and then did the synopsis. Come to think of it, I was that way in school, too. I had to write my papers first and then turn in the outlines.