A Riesling to Die

by J. C. Eaton

  It was Glenda’s day off, so I was safe as far as séances, ritual cleansings and smoke-filled smudgings were concerned. Too bad I had forgotten about Lizzie. Or Roger, for that matter. It was a little past four and I was starving.

  “Psst! Psst! Norrie! What have you found out so far from those winery women?” Lizzie called.

  I looked around to make sure no one was in earshot. Cammy, Roger and Sam all had customers at their tasting tables and everyone was caught up in their own chatter.

  “Uh, not as much as I’d like. Rosalee Marbleton thinks the niece did it, Catherine Trobert wants to fix me up with her son and Stephanie Ipswich thinks there was something fishy going on between Madeline Martinez and Elsbeth.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t talked with Madeline.”

  “Hmm, I’d have to go back to my notes, but Nancy Drew was able to extract all sorts of information from suspects.”

  Nancy Drew is a fictional character! “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

  “What about the murder weapon? Did you look around their houses to see if anything was missing? Like a poker from a fireplace or a coal bin that didn’t have a shovel.”

  “I didn’t notice any coal bins or fireplaces.”

  Lizzie adjusted her glasses and spoke slowly. “If you expect to solve this case, you’ll need to be more observant.”

  At that instant, two ladies approached the cash register and I let out a sigh of relief. “Catch you later, Lizzie!”

  No sooner did I step away from the register when Roger called me over to his table. The two ladies were apparently his customers and now they were purchasing wine.

  “Any luck with the investigation?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “Everything seems to be moving slowly.”

  “Funny you should mention that. The same could be said for the first four years of the French and Indian War. At least as far as the British and the colonists were concerned. So many reversals. So many—”

  “Oh look! Here come some customers!” I waved my hands wildly, motioning two couples to Roger’s table. “You’re going to enjoy our wines. This is Roger and he’ll get you started.”

  My God. Theo and Don were right. Fanatic didn’t come close when it came to that topic. I walked directly to the bistro, said hello to Fred and ordered a ham, turkey and bacon panini.

  “Cammy told us about the request from the sheriff’s department. No problem. I gave her our car information. FYI, last place I’d want to drive is in those woods. So many branches and briars. The car would get scratched.”

  Fred’s comment reiterated what I had already concluded about Declan’s car.

  “Yeah, I know. They’re just covering all their bases. It must be in their manual.”

  Fred laughed and started to make my sandwich. I took a seat at one of the tables and watched the people. A decent number of visitors that would keep growing until the late fall. As I perused the crowd, I thought about what Lizzie had said. About me not being observant. It irritated me to no end. I thought I was fairly observant. Especially at the Peaceful Pines when I noticed the vase with those flowers. Now I was beginning to wonder what I’d missed.

  Of course, Lizzie was right about one thing. I never did pursue Stephanie’s observation about Elsbeth’s car in front of Madeleine’s place, but that didn’t mean Madeline was the only one who could shed some light on the subject. I grabbed my phone and dialed Yvonne for the second time that day.

  “Yvonne? Hi! It’s Norrie again. Look, I know I spoke to you a couple of hours ago but I forgot to ask you something. Was your aunt friends with Madeline Martinez?”

  “What? Elsbeth friends with one of the winery owners? No way. What makes you think that?”

  “Uh, well, I’ve been asking around and I found out through the grapevine… “—Gee, how much more lame can I get with this excuse?—“your aunt’s car was often seen at Madeline’s place.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Wherever you heard that, it was wrong. Elsbeth never paid social calls. Complaints, maybe, but not social calls. And trust me, her complaints were short and to the point. Like stab wounds. I should know. She had a lot of them. Was that all you needed?”

  “Yeah. For now. I was following up on something. It doesn’t matter. Remember, whatever you do, don’t agree to sell the property. Not yet.”

  “About that. I should’ve told you this the first time we talked. The people who made me an offer were willing to let me run the B & B for six months past the sales date. That way, the guests who had reservations wouldn’t lose their vacations.”

  How very considerate of those leeches. “I see. But it’s a bad idea. Not while the investigation is going on.”

  “Like I said, it’s not up to me. Not until the will and all my aunt’s finances are settled. Of course, nothing is stopping me from signing a pre-agreement.”

  “What? NO! Don’t do that. Baja California’s not going to sink into the Pacific Ocean. It’ll still be there.”

  “Oh, I suppose you’re right. Anyway, I’ve got more laundry to do.”

  “Oh, sure. I didn’t mean to keep you.”

  I tapped the red end-call button and placed the phone on the table. Why would Stephanie tell me about Elsbeth’s car being at Madeline’s if it wasn’t true? Unless Yvonne had no idea. After all, why would she? And another thing about Yvonne—Baja California. I’d watched Beachfront Bargain Hunt and, compared to the flood of islands in the Bahamas and the Caribbean, why would anyone want to live in Baja? Then again, Yvonne certainly was strange.

  Suddenly the lights began to dim and I realized it was closing time. I got up and headed over to Cammy. She was wiping down her table and looked up when she saw me.

  “Hey! Got your message. As soon as I’m done, we can chat. The crew’s cleaning up in here and in the kitchen but we can talk in the bistro. It doesn’t look as if anyone’s in there.”

  “Great. I’ll be at the far end by one of the windows. Plenty of daylight left.”

  I checked my e-mails, poked around Facebook and did a quick check of the weather before Cammy pulled up the chair directly across from mine.

  “So, what’s up? The message sounded urgent.”

  “I need to run something by you, that’s all. And I need you to be really open-minded.”

  “Don’t tell me Glenda’s gotten to you.”

  “Yeesh. Nothing like that. We don’t need to contact the spirits to find out who killed Elsbeth. I think I already know. What we need to do is to set a trap.”

  Cammy swallowed hard and clasped her hands together. “I’m listening.”

  “Declan Roth and his partner from Vanna Enterprises murdered Elsbeth. I can’t really prove it but if my plan works, I can get them to admit it.”

  “Whoa. Slow down. Backtrack. Where’s all of this coming from?”

  I’d forgotten that as I kept acquiring information, I wasn’t necessarily sharing it with everyone I trusted. In this case, Cammy. I took a breath and bit by bit revealed everything I knew. Then I presented my plan. She didn’t say a word but her facial expressions kept changing. Like someone who was watching a horror movie. Her last grimace nearly frightened me.

  “Come on,” I said. “My idea’s not that godawful.”

  “Awful, no. Dangerous, yes. You could put this entire winery out of business with one small mistake.”

  “I won’t make a mistake. I won’t sign a thing.”

  “What about verbal agreements? Sneaky people have a way of taping things without anyone knowing it.”

  “I’ll be careful. Listen, those guys covered up their tracks pretty well. The sheriff’s department isn’t likely to make an arrest. Sure, all I’ve got is circumstantial evidence but—”

  “I think what you’ve got is coincidental evidence. If there’s even such a thing.”


  “All right. All right. Forget the semantics. Like I said, all I need to do is get them to admit to doing the deed. And what better way than to get them to believe I’m on their side?”

  “When? How?”

  “First thing Monday morning, I’m going to call Declan and tell him I’ve thought over his proposal for a mega-winery. He’ll be chomping at the bit to meet with me. Then, well, you know. I’ll lure him in.”

  “Geez, Norrie. You’d better watch it. If what you say is true about that company, they’ll be doing the luring. Maybe I should go with you. Not that I’m giving your plan an endorsement but if things get out of hand, I could always kick you under the table.”

  “As much as I relish the thought of a bruised shin, you can’t go with me. It might tip them off that I’m up to something. I have to go alone. Don’t worry. I’ll insist on a very public place and in daylight.”

  “Okay. Then I’ll arrange to be at the table behind yours. Wherever you meet.”

  “It still won’t work. Declan and his partner have been in this tasting room. They’ll recognize you.”

  “Hmm, good point. But I know a few guys they won’t recognize—my jerky cousins Marc and Enzo. They’re bartenders at my parents’ former bar and grill in Geneva. It’s their summer job. They’re juniors and they go back to college in the fall. They could keep an eye on you.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Well, I do. Let me know the date, time and place and I’ll get my cousins over there.”

  “How do you know they’ll do it?”

  “Oh, trust me, honey. They’ll do it. I have enough dirt on both of them to last a century.”

  Chapter 18

  The barricades seemed to be working in the vineyards. At least that was how it appeared to me when I stepped onto the porch the next morning to enjoy my cup of coffee and one of the muffins I bought yesterday. The visitors weren’t traipsing through the rows of grapevines and people were walking in and out of the tasting room. A few people were standing in front of Alvin, and that reminded me of something I needed to do but hadn’t gotten around to.

  Alvin’s pen was a nice-size rectangle off to the front of the building, but it also had a small path around the side that led to his little shack. The fencing was a combination of metal rods and wire mesh. Some of those rods looked like a good kick would knock them over. I wanted to mention it to John, just in case. Then again, Alvin didn’t strike me as having a whole lot of energy when it came to knocking down fences. Still, better safe than sorry. I made a mental note to leave a message for John on Monday. One thing that was a relief, Jason made sure to install a motion sensor security system around the pen in case coyotes ventured that way. The high-pitched alarm would scare them off, but someone, mostly likely me, would have to shut it off right away before Alvin went berserk. It was a risk Jason was willing to take. Too bad he didn’t wire the rest of the property.

  As I sipped my coffee, I glanced across the driveway to that broad swath of area where Elsbeth’s body had been discovered. She was found in the new part of the vineyards a few yards from the woods. And Charlie uncovered her plum-colored scarf in those woods. Somehow, this didn’t add up. Why didn’t her killer dump her in the woods? It would’ve saved them time and energy, not to mention it was unlikely she’d be found right away.

  I took the last gulp of coffee and decided to take a closer look. Theo and Don were adamant I shouldn’t go in the woods alone, but this was broad daylight on a warm summer’s morning, not the middle of the night. Nonetheless, I pocketed my cell phone, making sure the battery was fully charged.

  Charlie, who was fast at work licking his paws, looked up and decided to follow me. I hadn’t walked around the far reaches of our property since I was a kid and, even then, I didn’t stray too far. Other than the vivid memory I had of seeing Elsbeth’s body lying on top of the new irrigation drip system, it was impossible to discern where it had been. Everything was back in place, the broken pipes had been fixed and the burgeoning Riesling vines were no worse for wear.

  I stood in front of the spot and took in the surroundings. Woods on two sides and the open area where our other vineyards were. The logging road was directly behind to the west and could be accessed by Billsburrow Road and Rock Stream Road. The other wooded area, to the north, wasn’t as dense. In fact, it wasn’t really woods at all. Sure, there were trees but the land was mainly brush that consisted of wild berry bushes—raspberry and blackberry. Berries that Francine and I used to pick. As I remembered correctly, there were lots of openings between those bushes and if you didn’t mind the occasional scratch, you could reach in and get really juicy berries. Today, however, berries were the last thing on my mind.

  I skirted around the edge of the vineyard and walked directly to the brush barrier that separated our property from the land on the adjoining hill—Gable Hill. There was a vast expanse of land that was literally going to waste because the only purpose it served was to provide distance between Two Witches Winery and the Peaceful Pines.

  Some of the bushes had gotten thicker over the years and newer branches seemed to poke out everywhere. But others had died and their rotting wood left crumbling pieces on the ground. I stepped over one of those dead bushes and took a good look at the other side of the property. Like ours, there was a worn vehicle path that bordered the woods. Unless the driver was willing to take a chance on unsteady, soft ground, he or she would need to hug the woods. Woods that were laden with overhanging branches and those godawful vines that sprang out of nowhere and grew like crazy.

  From the looks of things, the vehicle path had been here forever. It was rutted and had acquired a number of small rocks and even larger stones. Maybe, at one point, the Tyler property was used as farmland, and farmers always had to maximize their space. I could see the Peaceful Pines in the distance and, in that second, I realized Elsbeth’s dead body wasn’t driven through the woods. It was driven on the vehicle path where I was standing. No wonder the killer didn’t dump her in the woods. All they had to do was transport her down to the bushes and then, boom! Toss her onto our newly installed drip system.

  In all fairness, they probably weren’t aiming to destroy our irrigation piping; they were just in a hurry to lose a corpse. That would explain the blood on Elsbeth’s chin and the shoulder of her jacket. She wasn’t dead long enough to stop bleeding and she probably sustained those cuts from one of the berry bushes.

  Declan wasn’t off the hook yet. In fact, he was dangling precariously as far as I was concerned. No wonder his car had to be detailed. I’m surprised it hadn’t needed an entire paintjob on the passenger side.

  Disjointed thoughts were racing through my mind. Did he kill her first and then get rid of her car, and if so, then Yvonne had to be in on it. Or maybe not. I tried to remember the timeline she gave me. Elsbeth disappeared after dinner. That was around six. Yvonne watched TV afterward in her room and took a shower around nine. Oh yeah. And a pill for her migraine. She wouldn’t have heard a thing. And, since it was late at night, the other guests were probably asleep, too, or even if they were awake, they didn’t pay any attention to any noises that might’ve wafted their way. Besides, if they’d known anything, those deputies would’ve acted on it after they interviewed the guests.

  It was quite conceivable that Elsbeth met with Declan and Lucas later that evening and when she returned to the B & B, they killed her, dumped the body in a hurry and, since they had her car keys, drove her car to the Walmart parking lot to make it look as if she’d been kidnapped.

  Those two men had to be familiar with her property. Declan told me where they planned on building their lazy river and the Atlantis mega-complex. Real easy for them to skirt the edge of the woods and stash her in my vineyard. Equally easy to pull out a shovel from the trunk of one of their cars and whack her in the head. Heck, they’d didn’t even need a shovel. A heavy rock would’ve sufficed.


  I was so deep in thought I hadn’t noticed Charlie rolling in something a few feet from me. Suddenly, he shook himself and grabbed whatever it was that made him stop and roll in the first place. It looked like a flattened purse and, for an instant, I was certain it had to be Elsbeth’s. Then I took a closer look as Charlie spat it out. Ugh! It was a dead animal of some kind that had dried up and flattened out.

  The odor, although not as pungent as the skunk, was enough to make me gag.

  “I’m not giving you another bath!” I yelled as the dog darted through the bushes back to our property. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a choice. That hound had gotten used to sleeping with me and no way did I relish reeking of a petrified groundhog, squirrel or rabbit. That was the instant I realized two things–Charlie could very well have gotten that scarf from those bushes and then returned to our property via the woods. Or the scarf could’ve easily been blown into the woods. No big deal.

  My second thought was more unnerving. That rutted road that edged the property also went all the way down the hill. All the way to Gable Hill Winery. What if Stephanie was the killer? Maybe a simple invite for some tea and cake or perhaps a late night dessert wine? Real easy for Elsbeth to drive down to Gable Hill, only to be knocked off by Stephanie and then thrown into our nearby vineyard. Stephanie could then drive Elsbeth’s car to Walmart and leave it there. And oh, how very convenient since Stephanie’s husband was in Watkins Glen for that overnight with the kids. Yep, it was possible. Stephanie could’ve called a cab for a ride home. The entrance to Walmart was a regular parking lot for taxis. No one would’ve been any wiser.

  In the back of my mind, I wondered if maybe I shouldn’t mention my latest epiphany to Deputy Hickman. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to check with local taxi service companies to see who they drove home from Walmart that night. Then again, he explicitly told me to butt out and that was what I intended to do. At least as far as the Yates County Sheriff’s Department was concerned.