by J. C. Eaton
“I know. Listen, I’m sure you’ve talked with Alan, but I’ll have a word with him, too, during the week.”
“Good idea.”
“Thanks, Franz. I didn’t mean to keep you. Have a nice afternoon.”
I cursed Declan and Lucas under my breath all the way up the hill. So what if they were smoking hot. And in Lucas’s case, downright combustible. They were unscrupulous, conniving and ruthless. All the more reason to put my plan in play.
Chapter 22
Abigail Blake kept her word. The FedEx delivery was at my doorstep before five and Arden Grant called me the next morning. Charlie had finished gobbling up his kibble and was halfway out the doggie door when the phone rang.
“Miss Ellington? I hope I didn’t wake you. This is Arden Grant from Armstrong, Patel, Smolowitz and Tarrow. I trust you received the documents.”
Compared to the APST documents, War and Peace looked like a dime novel.
“Uh, yes. Yes, I did. Thank you.”
“I was hoping we could set a time to meet. I’m at your disposal. I have strict instructions from the firm to meet with you as soon as possible.”
“How does Monday sound?” And it better sound good because Theo and I are going to need the next four days to prep.
“Monday would be fine. Would you care to meet at our satellite office in Rochester or—”
“If you don’t mind, I’d just as soon we meet here. At my house. It’s much more private and we won’t be interrupted.”
“If that’s your preference, I can certainly accommodate you.”
We settled for ten in the morning because I knew it would be a slower time in the tasting rooms and Theo’s absence wouldn’t be missed as much. Most of the tourists headed back to the cities on Sunday nights and the locals usually started their tasting later in the week. I gave Arden explicit directions to Two Witches and told him not to listen to his GPS.
“The county roads are quicker and not heavily trafficked,” I said. “Those GPS systems aren’t happy unless they direct you through at least one major thoroughfare.”
He thanked me and said he looked forward to making my acquaintance. I think I said something similar, but what I really meant was I hoped he could look forward to my award-winning performance.
I immediately called Theo to let him know about the meeting and to ask if he wouldn’t mind perusing the contract documents that APST sent over.
“I can’t cook,” I explained, “but I can call Joe’s restaurant and have them deliver the best pizza and wings ever. You and Don can come by after work.”
“Anything but anchovies and pineapple. Did you start to read the contract?”
“Yes. I got as far as ‘in consideration of the mutual covenants made.’ Then I gave up. This is worse than when I bought a multi-handset answering machine for my apartment in New York. That time I got as far as ‘Congratulations on your purchase of your new cordless digital answering system.’ After that, the instructions might as well have been written in hieroglyphics.”
“Okay. Don’t stress yourself out. We’ll take a look tonight.”
As things turned out, Theo was the one who got totally stressed. He and Don arrived forty minutes before the pizza. We sat around the table and tried to make sense of Vanna Enterprises’s partnership agreement.
At one point Theo exclaimed, “Good God! I don’t even think Sheldon Cooper could figure this out!”
That was when I knew I was in trouble. Real trouble. “I thought all we had to do was sit and listen.”
Theo’s head bobbed up and down and his eyes glazed over. “True, true. In theory.”
“In theory?” I was starting to panic.
“We should at least have some idea what they’re offering.”
Don leaned across the kitchen table and moved some papers around until he found what he was looking for. “Ah-ha. Here’s a table of contents. At least we’ll know what’s on each page. I’ll start reading aloud and we’ll see how that goes.”
It didn’t. Don went down the list, including partnership name and purpose, capital contributions and accounts, waivers, transfers and liabilities. I rubbed my hands together and then moved them up my arms. “I’m lost. Totally lost.”
“Maybe we should pick a topic and see how it reads. How about capital contributions?”
Theo and I both shrugged.
“Go ahead,” I said.
“The capital of the partnership shall be tantamount to the aggregate amount of capital contributions made to it by its partners.”
“What on earth does that mean?” My voice modulated between a croak and a whine.
Theo put his hand on my shoulder and winced. “It means you have to cough up the same amount of equity Lucas and Declan did. In this case, your property and your business.”
“Oh, that. Okay, fine. That’s what I want them to believe.”
“Look, Norrie,” Don said. “As long as you don’t sign anything or verbally commit to it, you’ll be fine. The only thing that lawyer is going to do is make sure you understand the ramifications of entering into a partnership with those developers.”
All of a sudden Charlie got up from his dog bed and raced outside.
“The pizza delivery must be here,” I said. “Hold on, I’ll get the door.”
Theo and Don gathered up the documents and put them back in the FedEx box. Two minutes later, a giant pepperoni and mushroom pizza with a side order of hot wings was spread out on the table. Joe’s restaurant even included paper plates and napkins.
“Call it sacrilege,” I said, “but I went to the store and got us some beer to go with the pizza. Real beer and O’Doul’s.”
“I know you’re convinced those two men were responsible for the murder,” Don said in-between bites of pizza, “but have you exhausted any other leads?”
“Not really. I intend to, if this doesn’t pan out. The trouble is, my other suspect is one of the winery owners and I’d hate to think she was the perpetrator.”
“Who? Why? What do you know?”
“Stephanie Ipswich had a real good motive for giving Elsbeth the axe.”
Don all but choked on his pizza. I went on to explain about the rutted road that bordered Gable Hill Winery all the way past the Peaceful Pines and how it led directly to the edge of the property where the berry bushes separated our vineyards from the land that Elsbeth owned.
I then presented my theory about how Stephanie could’ve lured Elsbeth to her house, had tea and crumpets with her, walked her back to the car, knocked her in the head with something and shoved the body over to the passenger seat. “Because, remember,” I said, “Elsbeth’s car was an old clunker. The front seats weren’t separated like they are today. Next, Stephanie could’ve driven her to the edge of the property, opened the car door and given Elsbeth a good shove.”
“You think Stephanie would’ve been strong enough to drag a dead body?” Theo asked.
“She wouldn’t have to drag it far. And Elsbeth was on the thin side.”
Don reached for another pizza slice. “Dead weight is dead weight.”
“Not if Stephanie used a tarp and slid the body,” I said.
“All conjecture, I’m afraid.”
With that, he took a bite of the pizza.
“But you have to admit, good conjecture. Anyway, I don’t want to go there until I follow through with the plan I already have in place.”
Don swallowed and cleared his throat. “You mean the disaster waiting to happen?”
“Huh? You said yourself I’ll be fine if I don’t commit to anything verbally or on paper.”
“True, but this still worries me.”
Then he turned to Theo. “Make sure she doesn’t go near a pencil or pen.”
We were down to our last piece of pizza and it went to Charlie.
“Fr
ancine’s really going to kill me. I think I’m spoiling that dog.”
Theo agreed to be at my house no later than nine-thirty on Monday. That would give us time for a quick run-through. We agreed to let Arden do most, if not all of the talking, with one exception.
“The guy has to believe we’re not blithering idiots,” Theo said. “Here’s the deal—every so often one of us should ask, ‘Can you repeat that, please?’ or ‘Would you expound upon that?’ We can also say, ‘We need some clarification.’ Furrow your brow, Norrie, and look intent.”
Don bent his head into the palm of his hand and groaned. “Heaven help us. You’re not directing a play, Theo.”
“Um, in a way, he is,” I said. “Plus, it’s a good stalling technique.”
Truth be known, I was petrified but I refused to waver. At least Arden Grant wasn’t about to intimidate me with his good looks. Come Monday, I’d be intense and direct.
* * * *
It was difficult to concentrate on my screenplay the following day. I was absolutely restless and nervous as hell. I got up from the table, walked to the counter where I’d placed the contract and began leafing through it. That only made things worse. I came across words I didn’t recognize, phrases I didn’t understand and paragraphs that made no sense.
By mid-morning I gave up on both endeavors and walked to the bistro for lunch. Cammy, Roger and Sam were all inundated with wine tasters, and I gave them each a quick wave as I walked by.
“I’ll have a turkey, bacon and avocado panini, Fred,” I called out to his back. In a split second, he spun around, only it wasn’t him, it was a young woman about his height with longish dark hair tucked behind her ears.
“Hi there! You must be Norrie. I’m Emma, Fred’s wife. I wondered when I’d get to meet you. Seems we keep crossing paths.”
She reached over the counter and gave my hand a shake. Like her husband, she looked as if she were still in junior high.
“It’s nice to finally meet you,” I said. “Things have been really crazy around here.”
“You’re telling me! First the body in the vineyard, then those crazy tourists looking for the crime scene and now a return visit from the sheriff’s department to question everyone again.”
“What?” The tiny bristles on the back of my neck started to move. Deputy Hickman made it clear none of our employees were on his re-questioning list, so why was he bothering them? “When? When was he here?”
“Just a little while ago. He wanted to know if any of us had heard any scuttlebutt about the other winery owners or their employees having it in for Elsbeth Waters. I told him I didn’t even know the woman but, from what I’d heard, I was glad I never made her acquaintance.”
“And that’s it? Rumor mongering?”
She shook her head and whispered, “Between you and me, I don’t think their investigation is going well. Maybe Glenda will have better luck.”
Glenda? Oh no. Now what? What else can she want besides a smudging and a séance? “Glenda?”
“It’s her day off but she stopped in this morning to ask if I’d take part in the conjuring of Elsbeth’s spirit on the Fourth of July. After dark. I thought Glenda had your permission.”
“Oh, that. Um, yeah, she does. I didn’t know she’d settled on a date. And the Fourth of July? That’s unusual.”
“Not according to Glenda. I guess there’s a lot of energy in the air that night and Glenda believes it will attract Elsbeth’s restless spirit. Plus, we don’t have fireworks on this lake. Only in Branchport on Keuka Lake and Ithaca on Cayuga. Sure, people will shoot off their own spinners and Roman candles, but that’s minor.”
“What else did Glenda say?”
“Not much. I was the last employee she had to track down. Everyone in the tasting room and bistro will be there. Unfortunately, Franz and Alan are going to a wine symposium in Syracuse, but Herbert said he’ll come. He told Glenda his academic advisor would never believe it. John plans to send Peter because he needs to have someone make sure no one walks down the rows or, worse yet, those little aisles where the plants are right next to each other. I’m really running off at the mouth, aren’t I? I’m not getting Glenda into any trouble, am I?”
“No, no. I told her she could do this. It’s just so…so…”
“Weird. I know. Anyway, you must be starving. One turkey, bacon, avocado panini coming right up.”
I plopped myself in a chair, propped my elbows on the table and leaned my head into the palms of my hands. It felt as if I had entered an alternate reality. I closed my eyes for a second when, all of a sudden, someone tapped me on the shoulder and I jumped.
“Norrie! I didn’t mean to startle you. It looked as if you were taking a catnap. Cammy said you’d be in here. She’s got a full table of customers.”
“Madeline. Hi. Can I get you anything to drink?”
“No thanks. I’m only here for a few minutes. I’m making the rounds to all the wineries participating in the ‘Sip and Savor.’ I’m dropping off the flyers for your tasting room. Didn’t they turn out great? Miller Printing does a marvelous job.”
She handed me a large stack of colorful flyers with a photo of scrumptious hors d’oeuvres paired with glasses of wine. “We might as well start getting the word out early. It’ll give the tourists something else to think about other than a murder. That’s all they seem to mention when they stop by Billsburrow Winery for a tasting.”
“Geez.”
“Still no news on the Elsbeth case, huh? I just came from the Grey Egret and the boys informed me things were moving at a snail’s pace.”
“Yeah, about that…Did you know Elsbeth well enough to wager a guess at who might’ve killed her?”
“Me? I hardly knew her. Now the niece, well, that’s a different story.”
“What do you mean?”
“That poor girl. Indentured servants were treated much better than she was. I met Yvonne a few months back when I was waiting for a prescription at Wegmans. We got to talking and I told her she could feel welcome to stop by and visit with me at my house. Believe it or not, she took me up on it. Usually on Saturday mornings on her way to the transfer station with the weekly trash and recyclables. I don’t know what excuse she gave her aunt, but she visited sometimes for over an hour. Like I said, the poor thing. Imagine living with such a shrew as Elsbeth.”
Oh my God! It isn’t Elsbeth and Madeline who are chummy. It’s Yvonne and Madeline. Stephanie got it wrong. “Wow. Those were long visits. Yvonne didn’t strike me as much of a conversationalist when I met her.”
“She isn’t. But she’s genuinely interested in the winery business and picked my brain on all sorts of topics. I imagined she wanted to know more about the topic so she’d have something to tell her guests at the B & B.”
“Really? She was that interested?”
“I know it sounds hard to believe, but it’s true. She wanted to know about cultivating a vineyard and the entire winemaking process. I’m certainly no expert on enology or viticulture, but I was happy to tell her what I’ve learned over the years running Billsburrow Winery. And, of course, I told her what every winemaker knows.”
“What’s that?”
“Great wine depends on four things—the grape, the climate, the soil and the winemaker. In that order.”
“Hmm, I’m still trying to wrap my head around Yvonne being so interested in the wine business. The last time I spoke with her, she wanted to get the heck out of here and fast!”
“I’m not sure what that poor girl is going to do. The legal process surrounding her aunt’s death is certainly going to eat up her time. Not to mention she’s got to run the B & B. Oh, I also dropped off some of our flyers there so guests who are visiting might decide to make a return trip later in the summer. That would help Yvonne with bookings, too.”
“Good idea.”
“Oh my
gosh. I’ve been gabbing forever. I simply must be on my way. I’ve got two more stops to make and Catherine Trobert will chew my ears off. It was nice talking with you, Norrie. I hope the sheriff’s department can reach some closure on the case.”
“Me, too. Thanks for dropping off the flyers and visiting. Oh wait. One more thing before you go. Are those developers still pressuring you? I haven’t heard much more about that.”
“I wouldn’t call it pressuring as much as I would ferreting.”
“Ferreting? I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
“Kind of like digging or poking around for answers. Needling might’ve been a better word but ferret comes to mind when I think of them. You see, Billsburrow Winery isn’t top on their acquisition list as far as wineries and land go. However, Lucas Stilton must’ve found out I was dining at the Port of Call not too long ago and made it a point to catch me off guard.”
So it was her. This day is jammed with all sorts of surprises. “What did he want?”
“He offered to compensate me rather nicely if I would use my influence on Yvonne to get her to sell that B & B. How he ever found out I know her is beyond me. Needless to say, I was quite polite, after all I was in a public place. I declined his offer rather diplomatically, I think.”
“How did you do that?”
“I told him if he ever approached me again in a public place, I’d scream bloody murder and people would think he touched me.”
“Whoa. Did it work?”
“I’ll say. And of all times for my husband to be in the men’s room!”
Madeline smiled and left the bistro. She waved to our tasting room staff before going out the door. So much for a Madeline-Elsbeth connection. At least I was able to definitively cross Madeline off my suspect list. No surprise. Her name was way, way down at the bottom.
Chapter 23
I approached the full-length oak mirror for the third, and hopefully, last time in the past twenty minutes. I tried to decide which outfit would convey a sense of professionalism and knowledge. Arden Grant would be at my door in less than an hour and I was nervous as hell.
